Final Fantasy VI: Rags To Riches
by espritduo
Summary: A series of 14 short "day in the life of" stories, one for each of the main characters of FFVI.  The stories take place shortly before the events of FFVI brought our heroes together.  Just something I've been working on while writing Sands of Time. Enjoy!
1. Gau

"_UWAAOOO!"_

A cloud of dust.

A glint of metal.

A piece of meat.

A blurred vision of rags and animal hides snaps up the dangling bait from the startled travelers before they even have time to realize what happened.

_Good start. I eat good today._

The three chocobo riders, likely out on a morning hunt, are long gone before the dust settles and the lithe form of a human boy jumps to the ground from the lobo he was riding, now dead. He plops himself down on the ground and crosses his legs, eager to dig into his breakfast.

The Wild Child of the Veldt has struck again.

It's considered good luck by hunters to encounter the boy dressed as a beast, a sure sign that the beasts are biting that day. These hunters were after bigger game than a mere lobo, but offered their dried meat to the Wild Child all the same. It would be terribly bad manners not to, after all. This is the protector spirit of the plains(or so the tale goes), and to please him is to please the beasts he rides.

This simple boy knows nothing of the legends that surround him. He only knows the result: free food. He is not a stupid child, as all who meet him up close will attest to with a dreamy sort of confidence only a folk legend and a round of ale can inspire.

"...I saw him! His eyes shine with intelligence and his riding skills as good as yours or mine..."

"...Believe me, he may be smarter than the lot of you. He'll never go hungry, that's for sure!..."

"...I'll wager my chocobo that he's out there right now, laughing at us for thinking he's just a witless child that needs fed. Someone needs to tame that tornado and teach him some manners, hahahaha..."

And so on. The men regale themselves with their experiences, some true, some not. The Wild Child cares not.

_Need find more friends. Good doggy, you sleep now._

Upon finishing his meal, the boy looks over his steed. Only a temporary one, but his fondness for all the beasts on the plain is the same. He cares for them as they cared for him these thirteen years. He doesn't know why he's here, or where he came from, but he doesn't dwell on such difficult thoughts. The animals took him in as one of their own, and he has learned their ways with uncanny ease.

Still, the boy has moments where he yearns for his people. He pets his poor friend killed in the hunt, a strange, but calm, look in his eyes. It is not sadness or anger, but the simple acceptance of life and death that can only come from living in the harshness of the wild. He will see many more deaths like this before the day runs out.

Without looking back, he leaps up and wanders towards the small bundle of houses near the eastern borders of the land he calls home.

Mobliz it is called, and Gau knows this. He knows many things from the men who come out to hunt every day. Gau has never entered the small village. He's far too afraid. All his life his wild family has shunned the place, and he has mimicked their behavior all too well. Whatever that place is, it's not for him.

But oh how he would like just a peek inside those walls. To see the creatures that look so much like him and whose cries sound so much like his own.

_Is dangerous, Gau knows. But is Gau's kind...and I so alone..._

Many hours past before the forgotten child turns his head away from the enticing sounds and sights of the village. Someday he will join them. But not today.

He leaps away, the scent of a new ride tickling his senses. A huge tusker gallops by him and pays no heed to the familiar sight of the human dressed in rags. He is one of them, and shows it by galloping right along side the tusker for a few paces, then leaping up and around the broad hairy shoulders of the bear-like mammoth. He grabs onto its back like a seasoned chocobo rider and hangs on, whooping with delight. How far the great creature will take him is up to the whims of the day.

Soon the tusker is joined by a trio of cirpius birds that circle it, waiting to feed. They twill and chirp and Gau twills and chirps. The tusker bellows a welcome to its feathery little companions, and Gau bellows his welcome, too. Anyone hearing the commotion would think there were twice as many of these animals raging across the plains.

And so the Wild Child leaps and rages, leaps and rages. He leads a carefree life only dreamt of by his more "civilized" brethren. They look at the free-willed child with a sense of awe and longing to join _him. _Of course the poor creature does not realize this, and is always hoping to join his kind and find a meaning to his life that the Veldt has not afforded him.

Does he understand that this is what he looks for? No. His mind, as sharp as it is, is still trapped in the world of beasts. All he knows is the longing in the pit of his stomach for something. Something...more.

_Gau tired now. Gau go home. Good night Veldt! Good night Mobliz! Good night beasties!_

The weary boy makes his way to the small cave he calls home as the sun sinks below the horizon. It is a pleasant place, full of the whooshing of strong water. The rushing water scares Gau, and always has, but it also calls out to him from the deepest reaches of his subconscious. A lingering memory of dread and fear in the back of his mind itches whenever he gets too close to the cliffs, but he knows he is safe in his cave at night. He wants so badly to be one with his own kind, yet an instinctual fear keeps him hidden from them while he sleeps. He will rest now, and start the next day anew, his hopes and dreams borne once again without a flicker lost to the night.

The child, so young and innocent, curls up in a ball and cradles his one possession, his one keepsake of the people he has been separated from. It is his treasure, his "shiny".

He sticks his thumb in his mouth and falls asleep like a newborn baby, the falling waters lulling him into a deep, peaceful trance. Good night, Gau.


	2. Mog and Umaro

"Kupo!"

"Good morning."

Deep in the caverns of the coal-mining city of Narshe a moogle is waking up from another long, unpleasant sleep. He is not happy.

"Kupo!"

"Yes, yes, kupo to you too."

The moogle rubs his eyes with his stubby paws and flexes his wings. The other moogles are already up and wandering about the caves looking for food. Mog is always the last to rise, his dreams keeping him from ever having a good night's sleep.

"Kupo!"

"Shut up."

This particular moogle is lucky enough to be able to speak the human tongue, although he would say it's a curse to be able to speak and have no one to talk with. As the leader of his clan, he has inherited the responsibility of receiving messages from the Thunder God, Ramuh, in his dreams. And despite his highest hopes, they are almost always the same.

_Stay away from humans._

_Keep out of sight of the miners._

_Never venture from the caves._

_Be mindful of the guardian of the caves._

That last one really irks Mog.

" 'Be mindful of the guardian of the caves' he says," Mog grumbles to himself as he gets up off the straw bed he had tossed and turned in the night before. It's the same routine every morning, with the same messages echoing in his mind. What an annoying old man.

"What kinda guardian is the big lug anyways? _I'm _the one who does all the guarding around here! That stupid sasquatch's just a spoiled baby..." Mog sighs as he scratches his backside and lets out a terrific yawn. To a human ear the yawn sounds like a high-pitched yelp, and the voice that of a child.

Mog reaches into a hole in the wall and pulls out a small hand-carved pendant made of mythril with a fat jewel stuck in the center. It's an ugly little thing, carved by his ancestors, but it serves its purpose well. When worn, Mog can waltz through the caves as he pleases without worrying about being detected by anyone or anything. Those poisonous were-rats would love to get a bite of moogle flesh, he's sure. And the vaporites that cling to the walls and ceilings...Mog shudders at the thought of them wrapping their wispy tentacles around him. Only the leader of the clan can wear this, and thus only the leader can leave the safety of the cavern the moogles call home. The others simply forage the immediate area while he has to go do the dirty work of keeping the mines safe from intruders. Lucky him.

"I'd love to just sit around and dance all day like the rest of you guys, but nope. I'm the head honcho and I gotta keep you brats in line. One of these days I won't be around anymore and then what, huh?"

"Kupo?"

Mog sighs, "Yeah, that's what I thought."

No doubt it is Mog's squeaky grumblings and mumblings as he wanders the caves that have spawned the stories of a ghost-child lost in the mines. Good for him and his people, since it keeps the annoying citizens of the city at the base of the mountains from sticking their noses in his business. The only thing more annoying than the so-called guardian of the caves are the humans who barge in and keep him up at all hours with their drilling and digging.

"And why shouldn't I leave, huh? I wanna get out of this dusty mine and see the world! I want to talk to someone who can say more than kupo!"

"Kupo!" A happy little moogle answers as he passes Mog on the way to the outer caves.

"KUPO KUPO KUPO ARGH!" Mog yells at the frightened little thing. He watches with a small amount of glee as the little one flutters off, terrified of his master's unexpected rebuke.

"You crazy old psycho. Why am I the one with this curse? Why can't I just dance around the caves like all the other moogles? Noooo, I have to have _responsibilities."_

Mog continues his gripes all the way to the back of the winding and branching caves where one more sleeper remains to be awakened. A loud snoring resounds off the walls, and an unmistakable stench greets Mog's nose. His big red bulb of a nose scrunches closed the moment he enters the ridiculous den of his hapless charge.

"Dammit, Umaro can't you at least try to bathe once and a while? And these trapdoors! I swear you reset them on purpose just to mess with me. Grah!" Mog stumbles onto one of the traps laid out around the den with obvious loving care. Umaro loves his pranks. Mog does not.

Mog lands on his feet, his wings keeping him from falling too hard or fast. The nasal foghorn is blaring louder than ever down here. Mog wonders how this lazy creature has escaped detection for so long when he and his kind have to work so hard to remain hidden. That's life, he supposes.

"UMAARRROOO!"

The snoring ceases and a loud yawn shakes the caves as a great white hairy mass jumps up from a pile of straw and bones. He eyes Mog like a dog to his master, a bashful look of reproach on his face . A strange sight considering the giant is the size of ten moogles.

"Don't give me that look!" Mog commands him without any fear.

"Ooh...sorry master." Umaro's deep resonant voice responds with groggy shame.

"Gah, get over here you. It's hard to be mad at the only thing around here that understands me. Although sometimes I wonder about that."

"Ooh! Ooh! Me understand master! Me smart!" The big brute thumps his pride-filled chest with a blue fist. A toothy grin breaks across his face, and Mog can't help but smile at how innocent the big galoot is.

"Yes, of course you are. Come along, then." Mog takes Umaro's hand and the absurd duo walks out of the den and back into the mines to watch over his people as they do what they do best: nothing. Poor, helpless fools. Harmless and big-hearted, but without him they'd never survive. With him, they are a force to be reckoned with. He is the keystone of his people. He is Mog.

Despite all his complaining, Mog is content with his lot for the most part. Sure his own people can't understand him beyond the basic kupo babble he's grown to despise, and he's stuck baby-sitting a ten-foot toddler, but things could be worse. Mog's not sure how, but he's sure things could be worse. Things could always be worse. He could be alone.

You see, Mog may pretend to be annoyed by the lack of people to understand him and talk with him, but behind it all he loves his people. Heck, he even is rather fond of Umaro, bless his boulder of a heart. And yet, he longs to go out of the caves and speak to the rest of the world. The words of the Thunder God have been absolute since his distant ancestors, though, and not even Mog would dare go against them. He is a God, after all.

Still, every night he crawls back into his bed of straw after tucking Umaro in and he hopes for a future where he doesn't have to hide. To be alone even when surrounded by one's own kind can be a depressing existence, but it is the one he was born into, and he would give his life to protect his people, although Mog would never admit that.

So he grumbles and pleads to the Thunder God every night before going to sleep. Every night he waits for the voice of thunder and rain that will grant him escape from the monotony once and for all. He waits, and he dreams, and he hopes.

_Protect your people, Mog._


	3. Shadow

"Pay up."

Two men sit at a table in a small room, the only light a pre-dawn haze filtering in through one lone window. One man is shaking from head to toe, his shadow quivering against the western wall. He wears the fine robes and gaudy jewels of the Jidoor upper class. The second man is dressed in nothing but black and does not move at all. He casts no shadow, for he is the night itself.

"B-but your p-price...it's outrageous! I'll never-"

A small knife flies across the room, nicking the man's cheek as it passes him by and embeds itself in the wall. A thin rivulet of blood trickles down his face, followed by a single tear.

_He never moved. I'm a dead man for sure._

"If you could not pay my price, then you should not have asked of my blade," the man dressed in black states in cold dead tones. The only emotion in his voice is one of impatience.

The quivering man cringes at the quiet voice like a dagger wrapped in silk. He has not looked into his hired assassin's eyes once since making the deal the evening before, but he ventures a pleading glance now, to his great folly. One does not ask a man such as this for mercy. To look into the eyes of a ninja is to see the face of death.

He stares at the ninja, his will subjugated totally by the piercing blue gaze. Now both men are still as stone. One second...

Two...

Three...

The deal is done. A pale hand reaches across the table and pushes the sweat-stained pouch of gil in front of the dark man. He does not take it, and remains as still as the stale air around him. The terrified man resumes his shaking, his head now turned towards the door, away from those eyes. His spirit has been obliterated in the span of three seconds. There was a lifetime in those three precious seconds he will never have back. In time he will realize that those three seconds were the real price he paid for the blood that was spilled the previous night. For now, his only thought is escape from this nightmare with his life.

Seeming satisfied, the ninja unsheathes his silken dagger once more.

"You may go," is all he says.

It is more than enough for the man. He tries to get up, staggers against the table, then bolts for the door as if on fire. It is the last time he will ever enter that room of dark dealings, the last time he ever asks for such services. The price was much too high.

_I've sold my soul to the devil. God help me, never again. Never again..._

The prices was just right for Shadow, however. With shameless grace he plucks the pouch from the table and stashes it in his gi.

"A brigand's pay," he snorts with contempt. He lets out a sharp whistle and a large dog bounds in through the open door. Unlike his previous guest, the dog canters up to him without fear, nuzzling his open hand. Shadow muses for a moment as the growing sunlight fills the room.

_That sniveling coward will live the rest of his life atoning for his greed with acts of charity. This town will prosper because of his guilt, and all it cost was the worthless life of a thief. I've killed two birds with one stone tonight. Clyde you are a clever one._

"Come Interceptor. We have a long day ahead of us."

The ninja rises to leave, and his dog follows. On the way out, he casually pulls his throwing knife from the wall and shuts the door behind him. He will return here many times and make many similar deals before his own time of atonement finally comes. Every town has a place like this, a den of corruption and greed where those who wish it can find easy solutions to their petty problems. The solutions are never quite so easy and the problems such people leave with are almost always greater than the ones they come in with. No one knows this better than Shadow, who loses a piece of himself every time he enters these places as well.

For now, he has appeased his own demons as best as he knows how, and will leave this room and this town behind. No one knows where he goes when he leaves, not even Shadow himself, but they find him all the same. When the need arises for the simple justice of his blade, he will be there waiting for them as surely as the sun sets.

Without so much as a grunt from the guards at the entrance to the city, Shadow makes his way out of Jidoor unseen and unheard. Interceptor follows his steps with equal stealth. The two have logged many hundreds of leagues together, and will journey many more before the end. Shadow has no friends, no family, no master, and no servants. Interceptor is simply his companion, following him like the conscience his broken soul refuses to admit he has. Shadow never asks for this beast's company, and also never refuses it. They are together, and yet are each separate as two leaves floating side by side down a river.

Before long the two slip off the trail north and into the woods to hide, Interceptor's nose picking up travelers in the opposite direction. Shadow never stops where he can be seen, and is never seen unless he chooses to be. At the moment a group of bandits from the thief-town of Zozo is on its way towards Jidoor, most likely on another raid for food and goods. There will be violence, and probably a murder or two. Shadow knows this, and he will do nothing to stop them. It is not his way to interfere in the business of others. Unless he is paid to, of course...

The bandits rush through the woods, some passing within inches of where Shadow sits with perfect calm and poise. None see him, but they all feel the presence of his eyes on the back of their heads. How easily he could dispatch all five of them. All dead before they even hit the ground if he chose to be merciful. He knows what they are planning to do, and he is not even tempted to stop them, even though it would cost him only the smallest effort. Temptation and compassion were flaws the assassin worked out of his system many long years ago. He has no room for such weaknesses in his way of life. Let them pass, let their own deeds come back to haunt them in their own way. Life is a wheel, and Shadow is fully aware of how efficiently it turns without his help.

The bandits gone, Shadow descends from the trees above and continues on his way to the next town and his next job, his next attempt to save his wretched soul. Interceptor follows.

The only thing left in his world is the impossible burden he carries and the hopeless effort to escape it. The shame of his own cowardice haunts his every step as he searches for atonement. He left the only friend he had ever known for death, because of fear. He sacrificed the only woman he ever loved, because of fear. He abandoned his own flesh and blood, because of fear. It is this fear he tries to escape now. All other fears are so much dust on the ashes of his long-dead emotions now. If he truly wishes to be free, he must atone the only way he knows how. Teach others the true meaning of fear, let them drown in their own cowardice like he has. Perhaps if he instills enough terror and guilt in others, he will someday know peace from his own. Perhaps.

With the sun halfway across the sky, Shadow enters the peaceful town of Kohlingen. Even here, amidst the quiet pines and sleepy fields, there is work for him. There is always work for men like him, because there is always corruption and greed in the hearts of the people. Shadow is like an expert surgeon in this regard; he knows just how to slice into the smooth, untainted flesh of a place and bring the vileness that lurks within to the surface. From there, he takes a little piece of its soul, hoping to regain a scrap of his own in return. Life is like a wheel, and Shadow is always hoping for redemption on the other side of its ever-turning judgment.

He must rest here before he goes any further, for he does not sleep at night. That is the time he works his particular trade, for that is the time when men are most comfortable showing their true faces. Shadow never shows his true face, day or night. His shame binds him and he hides his face not from the world, but from himself.

No one stops him or asks questions of him as he drops a handful of gold coins onto the desk in front of the innkeeper. He is tired and ignores the stares of fear and suspicion around him. Fear of him does no good to his battered spirit. Only fear of one's own weaknesses and failures is of any use to him. He will teach some of them the true meaning of fear tonight, of that there is no doubt. Everyone knows of the wandering assassin Shadow and his fearsome demon dog. They shun him now, but when the sun sets they will come to him with their real faces exposed. And then he will feast.

Shadow slips under the covers, his dog faithfully resting at the foot of the bed. He has no worries of being robbed or killed himself. No one would dare to even look in on him while he sleeps. They'd be dead before they left the room if they did. Or so the stories go. Shadow never kills without being paid to do so, but most people overlook this little fact. He has no problem indulging in their fantasies, for it only makes his job easier and his victory all the more sweeter when the stink of their own mortality chokes them under his stare at the bargaining table.

Sleep does not come easily to Shadow. He may dream tonight, like he does every so often. His dreams are his penance for all his running away. His subconscious forces him to relive the painful past he tries so hard to get away from while he is awake. But there is no escape from these visions in the darkness of his own mind.

_Baram! I won't do it. I won't take the knife. You'll...be alright here until help arrives. The wound isn't so bad, see? You'll live. I'll come back, I promise._

He ran away and never came back.

_No! It wasn't me! I wouldn't kill my own wife! Why won't you trust me? I'll find who killed her and return to Thamasa innocent, I swear it._

He never found the murderer, and he never came back.

_My sweet little girl. I will come back to you as soon as everything is put right. You will not grow up with a criminal for a father, I promise you._

He never cleared his name, and never returned for her.

_No! Stay away from me! I'm innocent...innocent...innocent..._

Shadow shoots up from the bed, sleep lost to him once again because of the dreams. It will have to be enough. The sun is beginning to set, and it's time he got down to business. Interceptor stares at him with an odd look in his eyes, as if he is trying to remind Shadow of something.

"What do you want? Stop that. I know what I am, and so do you. Leave me in peace, dog!"

Interceptor shrugs his strong shoulders in indifference. He is simply there like a fact of life and will not stay or leave on command - like a shadow.


	4. Sabin

"Wake up, lazy bones!"

Master Duncan's intense training regime was enough to make most aspiring martial artists run crying home, but not his two finest pupils. Perhaps this was due to their indomitable spirits, or perhaps it was due to the fact they already were home and had no where else to go.

"Awww, but Master the sun isn't even up yet...," a sleepy-eyed man whined from under the covers of his bed.

"What's the matter Sabin, did I beat you too badly yesterday?" a second voice jeered from a large dark-skinned man already wide-awake and standing dressed at the foot of his bed. "C'mon, I'll race you to the training grounds!" The dark-skinned man was out the door before the sleeper could even reply.

"Vargas wait up!"

A mountain of muscle tumbled out of bed and within half a moment was fully dressed and hot on the heels of his training partner and rival. An old man with a long flowing beard sat in the corner and stifled a laugh. Nothing like friendly competition to hone the fighting spirit. Duncan was pleased with his students for taking initiative and doing his job for him. Now if he could just rid Sabin of that nasty habit of sleeping in. Hopefully his son's example will eventually infect the young would-be prince. With an agile leap, Master Duncan was on his feet and following his star pupils to the forbidding Mt. Kolts, birthplace of his own fighting style - the blitz.

High atop Mt. Kolts in the center of a sunny bowl-shaped crater the dark-skinned man impatiently waits for his rival. He went easy on Sabin yesterday, and he plans on not pulling any punches today. The princeling needs to be trained right, and his fool of a father seems too afraid of injuring his royal highness to do it himself. Sabin has much potential, but years of being pampered by his servants in Figaro Castle have left him weak-minded and oblivious to his true talents. Vargas would awaken those talents even if his own father would not. A little blood-letting here and there was all part of the game. He would show his father he had what it takes to carry the secrets of the blitz to the next generation.

Sabin came huffing and wheezing to the pit where Vargas waited. He was greeted by a swift kick to the face that sent him sprawling back several feet. The astonished man wiped the blood from his split lip and answered with a cry of indignation.

"What was that for, Vargas? I've barely healed from the injuries you gave me yesterday!"

Vargas sneered, but helped his training partner up as he said, "You'll never understand the nature of the blitz if you can't even anticipate my attacks, Sabin. You've come a long way from your days as a scrawny teenager, but you're still as much a naive idealist as ever. Don't trust me just because I'm your friend. You can only trust yourself in this world. Didn't you learn that from what happened to your father?"

This cut right to the bone for Sabin. His father, the king of Figaro, had been poisoned by the Empire, which had claimed to be on friendly terms with their kingdom. The unprovoked betrayal and lack of immediate action on his family's part shocked him to his core, and he ran away from that world of corruption for a purer lifestyle. The instant gratification and swift revenge of the well-placed fist naturally drew him east, over the mountains and into Duncan's hands. He was a lean but fit teenager at the time, but ten years under the tutelage of a world famous martial arist had turned him into a brawny bear of a man. He was still prone to emotional outbursts, and Vargas savored setting him off.

"Don't talk about my father like that, Vargas. He was a great man and his death a great injustice. I _will_ avenge him someday, and I'll use what you and Master Duncan taught me to do it! Hyah!"

Sabin let fly a wave of punches, aimed low so as not to injure. Vargas easily evaded the first and second, barely parried the next three, and had the wind knocked out of him by the sixth.

Vargas had the edge in experience, being born and bred into the world of fighting, but Sabin had an innate talent for it, and his passion for the art had allowed him to rise in the ranks to be second only to Duncan's own son. That this stripling highborn could come so far so fast galled the man, but he said nothing. He let his fists do the talking for him most of the time.

Vargas quickly recovered from the attack and prepared his counterattack. He wouldn't be shown up today, not with his father watching.

"Lucky shot! Now try my Blizzard Fist!"

The dark-skinned man unleashed his own flurry of punches, each strike honed to deadly perfection. Sabin was still no match for Vargas's technique and soon he was on his knees, dazed but unhurt. Mostly. Vargas stood over Sabin and laughed, preparing to knock him to the ground.

"Enough!"

Duncan's powerful voice echoed down from the lip of the crater. He sat perched on a crag of rock, and watched the spectacle below with a careful eye. Now it was time to take his son down a notch. Confidence was a valuable asset to a fighter, but too much of it and even the most powerful warriors became more dangerous to themselves than to their opponent. His son needed to learn this before his ego got out of control. The old man sighed and got up, then closed his eyes, stretched his arms out palms-forward, and breathed his own special mantra. A huge bolt of energy grew from his palms, and then with careful skill and practiced hands Duncan let the bolt loose and watched with pitiless eyes as it homed in on its target - his son.

The effect was immediate, and devastating. Vargas lit up like a candle as the force of his father's aura pushed him back against the cliff wall. He was out cold, but other than the bruises from the rock face, completely unharmed. The Aurabolt did not harm the physical body, only the spirit. And Vargas's overwhelming spirit could stand to take a few knocks now and then.

"There. You see Sabin? That's how it's done. That is the power of the blitz."

"Master...I'm sorry, I'm not strong enough yet. I'm still as helpless as the day you took me in."

Duncan reached out and grabbed his pupil by the wrist and pulled him to his feet, smiling as he did. Yes, Sabin was a fine pupil, full of humility and grace and eager to learn. The years spent in the shadow of his twin brother must surely have influenced his demeanor. From what Sabin had told him of Edgar, it seemed the new king of Figaro could be every bit as arrogant and over-confident as his new brother-in-training. The heirs to great power usually were that way. It seemed the messy business of ruling and responsibility had siphoned some of that egotism out of Sabin's brother. Duncan only hoped when his son succeeded him as blitz master he would follow the king's lead and cool off a bit.

"Don't worry, Sabin. You're time will come soon enough. If you keep up your current level of training, you'll master my technique in a few more months. Here, let me show you how to really add some bang to those punches of yours..."

Vargas watched silently from where he lay, not quite as unconscious as he appeared. He seethed with contempt whenever he saw his father fawn over Sabin, while just pushing him out of sight. Sometimes it seemed the man cared more about that outsider than he did his own son.

_Just look at that way he hovers over him, showing him his secrets! I'll not be ignored, father!_

His own insecurity over his father's love fueled his rage and paranoia about being chosen to succeed him when he was gone. Over the years of Sabin's training Vargas had watched with increasing suspicion that, as impossible as it seemed, Sabin would be picked over him. Yes, impossible...but...

_Stop it! I'm his son, his only son. He can't deny me my right by blood! He can't, and he won't!_

Sabin was oblivious to Vargas's internal struggles, and day in and day out focused only on making himself the perfect weapon of vengeance against the injustices that had killed his father. He trained not just to take his vengeance on the Empire, but to actively work against the corruption and pointless debate of politics as a whole. He hated the whole messy affair of ruling, and believed the only actions worth taking were the most direct ones with the most immediate results. When he had enough power to overcome the problems of the world through sheer brute force, he would return and show his brother what that power was really for - to be used. Not wasted in the endless red tape of political strategy, like Edgar believed. He would see the dream of a unified kingdom, and eventually the entire world at peace. He would make that dream come true, for his peace-loving father and for his kind-hearted Master.

He would be the hope of his people, taking action when his father and even his own brother would not. How he hated them for their cowardice. He loved them just as much, but as the time of his exodus from the castle came closer, the more he was prone to outbursts and heated debates that often left both him and his brother on the verge of tears. They had fought so much during those last few weeks after his father's death, and there had been so much love lost. Could he ever hope to rekindle those feelings? He must. Only the unified brothers could hope to achieve the dream of total peace. If he couldn't even save his relationship with his family, how could he save the world?

For now, he was beat. If Vargas pushed Sabin physically, Duncan pushed him even harder mentally and spiritually. He had come far today, but he still had much to learn before he could compare to Vargas's superb skills and dedication to the art. He would try harder tomorrow.

"I think that's enough training for today, Sabin. You've done well learning the basic pummeling technique. I think you may even be able to give Vargas a few surprises tomorrow now that you have begun to understand the nature of the blitz. Speaking of which, it looks like my hard-headed son is beginning to recover from his own lesson for today. Shall we help him up?"

Duncan and Sabin shared a quiet laugh as they walked over to Vargas and offered him their hands with good-natured grins.

_Fools! How dare you mock me! You'll pay for humiliating me. I'll...I'll...dammit Vargas get ahold of yourself. Control your anger. Use it, don't let it use you. Focus on being the best. You must try harder tomorrow._

"Thank you, Father. It seems I still have much to learn before my training is complete," Vargas said as calmly as he could.

"Not as much as you think, son. There is much you can only learn through experience, and you both still have your entire lives ahead of you. The world will teach you far more than I ever could if you keep your eyes open and your hearts pure. Remember that, you two."

Duncan spoke to both young men, but his eyes were only on his son. Yes, Vargas would need to open his own eyes and heart soon if he was intent on taking his place. He fought too many of his own demons, instead of focusing on what really mattered. If he could not be at peace with himself, he could never be at peace with the world and with nature, and never fully master the blitz.

The old man led his two pupils back to their hut at the base, reminding himself to keep pushing Vargas to understand what it meant to be a true leader. He would try harder tomorrow.

"It was a good day, wasn't it, brother?" Vargas asked Sabin as they ate their dinner. Master Duncan's students trained hard, and he made sure they ate just as much.

"Yes, I learned much, and it looks like you learned a rather painful lesson yourself. How do you feel?" Sabin replied in between large bites. Part of the secret to Sabin's amazing transformation from boy to bear was the hearty portions he ate every night. Duncan only allowed one meal a day, but Sabin definitely got his fill of it.

"Fine now. I learned a great deal today. A great deal, indeed. I'll see you tomorrow then," the dark-skinned man replied as he got up and left for bed. Vargas had barely touched his own meal.

_Sweet dreams Sabin._


	5. Locke

"Stop, thief!"

Locke didn't have time to argue with the man, as much as his pride demanded it. Now was not the time for semantic nonsense; he had a job to do. He hopped onto the nearest chocobo and was gone in a cloud of grass, dust and yellow feathers. The ranch hand only had time to wave his fist in anger before Locke was out of sight.

The Returner's hideout was still miles away, and he needed more speed than his legs alone could give him, as fast as they were. This rancher wouldn't miss one chocobo, and with some luck the creature would return to his home safe and sound in a few days.

_How'd I ever get myself stuck running errands for Banon and Edgar? I need to talk to one of them about a role more fitting for my talents. Delivering letters is no job for the world's greatest treasure hunter._

He had learned much in South Figaro that night, and with the first ray of light left the city walls with an urgent message for King Edgar across the mountains and desert sands far to the west. Figaro Castle was at least a day's ride on chocobo, and the mountain paths might prove dangerous without a guide. Lucky for Locke, there was someone waiting for him who knew the mountains very well. Whether he could trust this man or not was the real problem facing the tired traveler.

"I hate to have to resort to Lone Wolf's help," Locke mused as he wiped the sweat from his brow with his bandanna. "That man gives noble treasure hunters like me a bad name. If anyone's the thief, it's him. Still, I've got bigger fish to fry today. Giddyup!"

Locke kicked the chocobo's sides and it sped up as it raced against the rising sun across the green plains of the Figaro countryside. The Figaro mountain range loomed in the distance, still dark and sunless. There were caves through it, but no chocobo would enter them, and he needed every ounce of speed he could muster. The King must be made aware that there is a traitor in his midst.

While King Edgar claimed to be on good terms with the Empire, he had always held a deep-seated hatred for them since their involvement in his father's death. He never missed a chance to make them look the fool while keeping that smile on his face that claimed nothing but good intentions and innocence. Sometimes Locke wondered if the King might despise all things Imperial as much as he did. They had both lost loved ones because of the Empire. Edgar certainly took it well, always laughing while he talked about his latest escapades with his "allies" in the Empire. Locke marveled at his composure, knowing all too well the pain he must be hiding.

Thoughts of his lost love stung him as he rode on. Rachel had been a truly remarkable woman. The only woman he had ever known whose lust for adventure matched his own, a lust that had proved to be her undoing in the end. How he regretted failing her, not once, but twice. If there was a way to make up for his past mistakes, he would find it. The hope of someday seeing her call his name again kept him going day after day, night after night. He would trade the greatest treasure in the world just for one more moment with her.

As he reminisced, the mountain range rose to meet him, and the day along with him. He had made better time than he thought, and he hoped Lone Wolf kept up his part of the bargain and was waiting where he said he would be.

Locke stopped and looked around the mountain base for signs of his guide. His keen eyes spotted a bestial form leap down from a nook in the cliffs. In half a heartbeat, Lone Wolf the pickpocket had nimbly picked his way from boulder to boulder to the ground, and was now ambling towards his "old friend". He reached out a shaggy, clawed hand in greeting, but Locke only stared at it.

"How goes it, fellow thief?" Lone Wolf asked after a moment.

"I'm not a thief anymore," Locke scowled. "I'm legit now, and I prefer the term treasure hunter."

The wolf man barked a laugh. "The years haven't dampened your arrogance, have they? I see you are in a hurry, so we can catch up on old times as we climb. I hope that chocobo of yours can keep up with me." The half-beast, half-man leaped back, and then sped off on all fours, proving he was indeed serious about Locke's ability to keep up. Locke couldn't help but smile at this. If there was one thing this scoundrel was good at, it was running away.

As Lone Wolf padded along just ahead of Locke, picking the best routes as easily as a bird following the wind, he attempted conversation, but with little success. Lone Wolf didn't seem to mind. He enjoyed jabbing at the high and mighty "treasure hunter" who thought he was too good for his company now. Lone Wolf knew Locke's dark past quite well, and would spare no barbs at his expense.

"So, how goes things being a delivery boy for the Returners? Oh don't look so surprised, I keep track of all my old accomplices, even if they avoid me like some rabid dog. You must be in dire need to come to me for help. Something stirring in the city, I assume?"

Locke said nothing, but he worried how many others knew of his dealings with King Edgar and Banon's Returners. If word got out, Figaro could be in danger, and Lone Wolf was just the type of person to let something slip for the right price. How he would like to silence this low-life, not just for Figaro, but to keep him from talking about other aspects of his life best left untouched. He knew Lone Wolf couldn't help but dig up _those_ memories. And sure enough, it wasn't long before he broached the subject with his usual tact.

"And how is Rachel doing? Still sleeping soundly? You know, any other man would have forgotten about her and moved on when she couldn't even be bothered to remember their name. I never could understand why you tried so hard to stick around after she lost her memory. She never seemed like your type to me anyways. Too...fragile." Lone Wolf ended this with a sharp-toothed smile, knowing that this would have to provoke a response.

Locke couldn't stay silent at that. No one insulted his love, especially not this bastard. He narrowed his eyes and spoke in low tones, knowing full well Lone Wolf's ears would still be able to hear him.

"You know nothing of what happened to her, or how I felt about her. She was my life - _is_ my life. What happened to her was my fault, and I stayed with her as long as I could to atone for my sins. An immoral cur like you would never understand."

Lone Wolf's grin only widened. "Oh ho! I understand quite well! You stayed long enough to see you weren't wanted, then left when things got bad with the Empire. If you really cared about her, you would have stayed by her side and protected her when the Empire attacked. Maybe then she wouldn't have gone out to fight with the rest, and not have been injured so badly. You know, just before she lost consciousness for the last time, her memory returned. When she realized you had left her, she fell back into a coma and didn't wake up again. Your name was the last thing she ever spoke, and you weren't there to hear it!"

"Shut up! You have no right to condemn me! I did what I had to, and left to spare her anymore pain. It would be just like you to turn a selfless act into something ugly. You always were a coward."

But Locke did not believe his own words. His thoughts were frighteningly similar to Lone Wolf's, and they both knew it. What if Locke _had_ stayed? What if he had been there when she came back? What if he had never been so eager to explore the massive grave to the south in the first place? Could he have saved her from falling if he had been more careful? Could he have saved her from the Imperial forces? Could he have saved her from the darkness that eventually overtook her? So many questions that could never be answered. So many things to regret.

Thanks to the old herb master that lived in town, he would have all the time in the world to think about those regrets, and maybe someday be rid of the pain once and for all. Yes, she would sleep in a state between life and death for as long as Locke paid the man. Paid him in "treasures" he had acquired from all over the world. His price was always high, but the thought of truly losing Rachel for good was too much for Locke to contemplate stopping, even for an instant. That would be the ultimate failure, and he could never live with himself if she died.

"A coward I may be, but don't ever doubt that we are cut from the same cloth, Locke. Once a thief, always a thief. In the end, you ran away when she needed you most. That makes you a coward in my book. Now then, the mountains are winding down, and we should be able to see the desert soon. Will you be paying me now, or shall I accompany you to the castle as well?"

Lone Wolf knew full well that Locke would want to be rid of him as soon as he could, and would never agree, but he enjoyed the game too much to not ask. Any reminder of who Locke used to be was a thorn in his side, and Lone Wolf knew it. He expected Locke to throw him his payment and leave him in the dust without a word. When Locke agreed to continue with him, Lone Wolf nearly tripped over his own feet.

"Your payment is in the castle stores. Once we get there I will give it to you. Until then, I guess we're stuck together." Locke lied to him effortlessly. He knew Lone Wolf would be suspicious, any good thief would be, but he also knew that Lone Wolf had been looking for this particular item for ages, and would give in and follow him despite his doubts.

"Hmm...yes, the same old Locke." Lone Wolf grinned once more, his fangs bared and eyes gleaming with suspicion. "I guess I have no choice, then. I just hope for your sake you are able to pay me. You're the better thief, but I'm still capable when I need to be. If you fail to pay me, there are always enough Imperial soldiers around that would be more than willing to share a drink with me, and maybe a tale or two about a fellow thief..."

"That's treasure hunter," Locke replied with cold grace, and said nothing more for the rest of the journey to the castle.

They marched across the sands, Lone Wolf now out of his element and trailing behind Locke. Soon the castle spires rose before them , the sun creeping behind them as it wound its way back down into the burning sands beyond the horizon. The castle was a mechanical marvel, and at the sight of Locke the gates creaked and gears could be heard grinding as the doors slid apart to let the travelers in. Only one of them entered, though. Lone Wolf would not go any closer to the castle, and demanded that Locke bring his payment to him as soon as possible.

Unperturbed, Locke walked into the castle and strode right through its halls to the throne room where the King sat, busy with matters of state. Edgar looked up from the scroll he was inspecting, and gave his usual disarming smile.

"Ah, Locke! It's good to see you again. What news do you bring us from the east?"

"Grave news, your majesty. But first, I have a small favor to ask you. There is man of ill-repute outside your gates who I believe wishes to cause mischief within the kingdom of Figaro. I strongly urge you to consider keeping him under your watchful eye for the time being." Locke tried his best to keep the act of formality up, but the sheer cleverness of his plan soon caused him to break out in a grim chuckle.

Edgar was no fool, and knew what game his friend was playing, and played right along.

"Hah! Yes, my loyal vassal. I understand your concerns. I shall send my guards out to 'escort' our fellow traveler to his quarters. I thank you for your advice. Shall we see to your errand in my private office, then?" Edgar gave Locke a small smile as he ordered his guards to take Lone Wolf into custody.

Once they were alone, Locke dropped the formal tones and spoke to Edgar as an equal, and as a friend. There was no need for respect of positions here. They both shared a strong bond that transcended such petty concerns: loss.

"So, a traitor in South Figaro, you say? And it seems another one at our very gates, thanks to you. I'll see what I can do without arousing too much suspicion from Emperor Gestahl. Ah, how I wish I could stop this act and just strike out at the Empire, but a full-scale war is the last thing this continent needs. Just look what happened to the southern continent. My South Figaro will not burn like Miranda did."

"I agree, but it is becoming very dangerous these days. If a nobody like Lone Wolf knows about you aiding the Returners, then none of us are safe, even with him behind bars. I think someone has to make a move soon, or else..."

"I understand, Locke. I don't want any of us to suffer any more losses, but war is not the answer. Not yet. I won't stoop to Gestahl's level just for revenge. My father wouldn't have wanted me to throw away the kingdom for him..."

"...And Rachel wouldn't have wanted me to throw away my life to try and avenge her." Locke finished Edgar's sentence for him, knowing but not believing.

"We'll keep the charade up for now. Tell Banon not to make his move yet. I know he's itching to do something big, especially now that he almost has the backing of Narshe. Have you heard from Arvis lately?"

Locke was glad to get away from anything that concerned his past, and was grateful to change subjects to the invisible army that the Returners had been building.

"No, but he is expecting me back in Narshe soon. They say the Empire's looking to invade Narshe now, even though it's proclaimed itself to be neutral. Arvis will tell me more when I get there. For now, I must see an old friend off properly. You understand I hope?"

"Heh, of course. Stay well, friend."

"You too."

Locke left the room feeling hopeful for a change. The Returners were growing every day, thanks to the efforts of people like him working as confidantes to the leaders of the various nations. Soon the Empire would feel his wrath, and the pain he had suffered because of their greed would be repaid. It was time to repay another greedy soul, and Locke tried his best to stay serious as he made his way towards the dungeons.

"You!" Lone Wolf spat through the bars of his prison cell as Locke sauntered up to the doors. "Come to laugh at me, then? Coward!"

"Of course not, my friend. I merely stopped by to give you your payment, as promised. Like I said, I've changed. I'm not the same man you knew all those years ago. You, however, haven't changed a bit. Here's your reward. Enjoy it for what pleasure it will give you in here."

Locke tossed a glittering hairpin into the cell at Lone Wolf's feet, then got up and left without another word. He'd had quite enough of this creature for today.

Lone Wolf quickly bent down and snatched the golden hairpin before anyone else could see him. Yes, this was the treasure he had been seeking. He had to give Locke credit where credit was due. This was a prize of legendary value, and he had spent many months looking for it himself before giving up. Now it just might be his key out of this cell if he waited patiently until his chance to pick the lock and escape. He wasn't known for his pickpocketing skills for nothing.

While Lone Wolf stewed and schemed in his cell, Locke trudged back to the guest room Egdar had prepared for a well-deserved rest. As usual, his thoughts were only on Rachel as he crawled into bed. Was she safe? Was she thinking of him in that eternal dream-state she had been drugged into? Would she remember him even if he did wake her? It was all too much for Locke to bear in his exhaustion, and he, too, collapsed into oblivion for the night, to perhaps share his own dreams with his love's.

_Will you remember me, Rachel? Will I ever hear my name on your lips again? Say my name, just one more time, please..."_

Further to the west, over another mountain range and through another desert, a girl sleeps, and an old man watches. In the waning hours, he has dozed off as well, and does not hear a soft murmur from the girl, still unconscious.

"Locke..."


	6. Setzer

"Get up, you lout!"

The shrill female voice in Setzer's ears dragged him up from the bottom of his half-finished glass of wine. He winced at the sunlight dustily falling into the empty bar. His head felt like a five ton weight had been dropped on it. It was much too early for this.

"Please, madam. Is this how you treat such a respected patron to your establishment?"

His words were elegant, but the obvious slur as he tried to remember just which establishment it was he had fallen asleep in the night before betrayed his true state.

"This is how I treat sauced losers who conveniently forget to pay their tabs!"

The barmaid was in no mood for Setzer's smooth talk today. The man was impossible to deal with, constantly flying away whenever the going-on of the previous night came up. She knew he was filthy rich, and just because he had an airship he though he owned every bar he walked into. Well, he had cast one too many rolls of the dice this time. Time to ante up, gambler!

The rather full-figured woman gave the half-awake man a swift kick to the side that sent him sprawling out of his chair and onto the floor. What a mess of a human being, she thought, as she looked at him.

Setzer remained calm, taking the unexpected violence in stride. Sometimes you got the barmaid, and sometimes she got you. Such was life. Despite his raging headache and newly sore side, it was another fine day for the Wandering Gambler, as he liked to think of himself. Time to get started with his day job.

He picked himself up off the ground with as much dignity as he could muster, straightened his long silver hair, and coughed once to try and get the taste of sour alcohol out of his mouth. Most mornings were like this for Setzer Gabbianni, the world's only airship pilot, and a notorious lover of wine, women, and above all, gambling.

_Let's see if you can't get out of this one, Setzer._

The shameless spirit gave the formidable woman in front of him his best 'trust me' look, betting she would take the bait. She was mad, all right, but she was still female. Despite the nasty scar on his face from a long ago airship accident, Setzer knew he had enough good looks to get him through more than a few scrapes of this nature. He smiled like a prince, and rolled the dice.

"Now, now. I can assure you the fees for last night will be paid in full by the end of the day. As you can plainly see, I have nothing on me but my traveling coat, and admittedly, a few suds from last night..."

"Oh no you don't!" The woman interrupted. This was an old game, and she was not going to let the cad off that easily. "You're not leaving this bar without paying the 30,000 gil you owe us. No more tricks!"

Setzer was no fool. He had expected her to catch on immediately. She was a familiar face, and knew the more obvious hands he sometimes tried to play. Maybe something a bit more high stakes this time?

"You wound me!" Setzer cried, as if she had kicked him again. "We're old associates, you and I. You know as well as anyone that Wandering Gambler always pays his debts sooner or later."

"Yes. And as soon as you do, you fritter it all away again on cards or booze!"

"Too true," Setzer said ruefully. "But this time is different, I assure you. When I walk out of this bar in a few minutes, you will be quite satisfied with my payment."

The woman raised her eyebrows suspiciously. What game was he playing now?

"Look outside. My airship is waiting only a short distance from here. Hear that? That's the sound of the propellers, getting ready for lift-off."

The woman spared a glance out the amber-tinted windows, and sure enough the instantly recognizable profile of the Blackjack could be seen perched on a nearby hill like a giant boat, whirring away as it refueled. She nodded slowly, wondering what he would promise next.

"You say you won't let me out of here without paying, but what if I allow you to accompany me on my airship, where I can properly thank you for your hospitality?"

Setzer looked at the woman with pure innocence. As she glanced at the hulking mechanical marvel outside, he knew he had won. A precocious smile stretched across his face as he enjoyed this first gamble of the new day.

"You would let me fly with you?" The woman said, taken aback.

It was her dream to fly the skies unhindered like Setzer did. Wasn't it everyone's? But he rarely admitted passengers onto his airship without exorbitant prices, and even then, it was only the rich and elite of Jidoor that he welcomed personally.

He was a shameless dog, but he could also be a gentleman when he remembered his noble Gabbianni upbringing between glasses of wine. But those moments were far too few for her liking. How many years had she served him drinks, and how many times had he offered to take her up in his airship? Not once.

"If you let me pass, I shall show you a view of the world only the richest and most powerful men are allowed. The view from the top is something not to be missed, my fair vision. Shall you join me, and put aside my wretched behavior for a bit?"

"I...suppose I could take off for a few hours..." the woman said, blushing. Oh, this man! He knew exactly how to play her, didn't he! But this was the chance of a lifetime, and after all, Setzer wasn't really that bad of a man. Just a hopeless free spirit. Right?

"Shall we?" Setzer said agreeably, deftly putting his arm through hers and leading her out of the bar. She was a handsome enough woman to accompany him on the first flight of the day, and he knew he was giving her something wonderful in exchange for the tab he barely remembered. Would he mention that the price for even a quick jaunt in his precious Blackjack usually cost a customer at least 30,000 gil?

_No, I think not. Why spoil the mood?_

"Are we really going to soar above the clouds?" the woman squealed like a young girl half her age. She was completely won over at this point. Her, a lowly barmaid, gliding through the heavens on the famous Blackjack! She tittered nervously as Setzer walked her to the wondrous vehicle.

"We will soar like falcons, my dear."

A few hours and many miles later, Setzer had delivered the emergency supplies for the Imperial regiment near Doma(for free, Setzer thought glumly), and taken the now much more pleasant woman back to Jidoor. She had been ecstatic to see the world flit by under her feet, and once they had alighted, the topic of his debt never came up again.

_You've done it again, Setzer. Another day well begun and another hand well played._

But this was not the complete truth, and Setzer knew it. He was perhaps the freest man alive, but he was also perhaps the most trapped. Every day started like this: innocent, friendly, happy, full of hope. But by the time the sun set, Setzer invariably found himself in some bar or other, drinking, gambling, and cursing his luck silently as he risked ever higher and higher amounts the more inebriated he became.

_Someday you just may find yourself penniless and wingless, my good man._

That was a risk Setzer was willing take to get away from the inner demons that haunted him each day. He had spent the last few years trying desperately to erase the memories of love found, and then lost. Cards helped keep his mind busy on his off hours, and booze helped him to ignore the lonely nights and avoid the bad dreams.

_Oh, Darill, why did Lady Luck decide to withdraw her hand from you, and spare my worthless soul? _

The usual train of thought had already come rushing through him, and the day was still long. He needed a drink. Setzer ordered one of his on board workers to fetch him a glass of his special stock from Kohlingen. The taste of home was what he wanted right now.

Kohlingen. How many bliss filled days had he spent on his family's estate south of the respectfully small town, tinkering and flirting with the two loves of his life? The company of a remarkable woman completely in tune with his passion for life, and the triumph of building something that had long since vanished from the world since the War of the Magi. These were once the driving forces of his life, the simple joys that kept him alive. And happy.

_Happy. Am I happy now? That poor barmaid would probably think so. Who wouldn't be happy with the amazing freedom I have? I can go anywhere, anywhere at all. Except for the one place I want to go more than anywhere else in the world. Where did you go Darill? What did you see when you flew closer to the stars than anyone? _

Setzer would have followed Darill on her ill-fated voyage into the upper reaches of the atmosphere, but he had found himself lacking in spirit that one time. Darill had forever proved that she was truly the freest of them all, and had left Setzer behind. His lover and goddess had gone where even the Blackjack could not follow.

_Darill, what did you see?_

Setzer took a deep draft of the fine wine from his childhood, savoring the bouquet as he swirled the glass like a true sommelier. It was sweet and dark, faintly spiced, a true Gabbianni vintage. How many glasses of this very wine had he shared with Darill as they talked excitedly over blueprints or toasted each other after a good airship race? Too many. Not enough.

As the Blackjack passed over Kohlingen to his next stop, Setzer felt the urge to cry well up within him. He fought it back with a hearty laugh that startled the workers and waiters nearby. No one could see him like this. He had an image to keep up after all. At least until the sun went down, and he found himself drowned in another bottle of cheap liquor.

By the time the airship had arrived at the Imperial-occupied city of Albrook, Setzer felt a little better. The day was half over, and the flush of wine warmed his body and blurred the painful memories of his carefree past. Now was the time for business, but not the kind he liked. There was nothing to be gained or lost here, except perhaps survival.

"Welcome to the Imperial city of Albrook. Your permit, please." A guard said gruffly as Setzer exited his rather unusual vehicle outside the city walls. The guard did not act as if anything was out of the ordinary. The Blackjack was a common sight on the outskirts of the gloomy city.

Setzer never stayed here long. Some places were just too sad, even for him. Ever since the Empire had snatched up the surrounding cities and towns on this continent, a pervading air of sorrow and futility had spread across the citizens. Setzer did not care to wallow in other people's grief. His was more than enough, and these people were none of his business.

_My business! Hah! The Empire "allows" me to fly their airspace in exchange for being their delivery boy. This is no business, it's blackmail, plain and simple. Darill would be ashamed of you, Setzer._

But Darill was gone, and all he had left of her was what remained of her own fallen airship, the Falcon. Setzer went over his current restoration plans for the broken companion to his Blackjack in his head while he flung the Imperial papers in the guard's face. Anything to keep his mind off of her, and off his current situation.

There were several bars in the besieged Albrook, but they were all full of soldiers. Poor company even after a few drinks. Setzer skipped his usual drink and round of cards and finished his business in the town as quickly as he could. Things looked more and more grim each time he returned to this place. Something was definitely stirring in the Empire. Setzer could feel it, smell it in the air, see it on the faces of the people. The winds of change were blowing, and Setzer wanted to make sure he was flying in a different direction when that wind came.

The Empire had made Setzer rich when he had first started using his Blackjack for the various needs of an earthbound world. The flow of money soon changed when that old dog Emperor Gestahl tightened his grip on his reigns and expanded his influence to the rest of the continent. Before Setzer knew what was happening, he found himself flying soldiers, provisions, even weapons for the tyrant. Setzer strongly suspected that last shipment he had sent to Doma contained some kind of poison, but he was not in a position to balk at the Emperor's orders, however despicable they became.

His wings were all he had left, and the Empire was more than capable of taking them from him if they chose to, as that weasel Kefka so often remind him in the letters he received for requisitions. They had their own Imperial Air Force(IAF), and while it didn't have the reach of Setzer's Blackjack, it had strength in numbers, and firepower.

No, Setzer was not as free as he led people to believe, although as he left the down-trodden Empire behind him, he was reminded that he was freer than some. He was becoming more and more a slave to the Empire with each passing month, though, and he was forever a slave to his own suffering and anguish. Setzer suspected he would either go broke from serving the Empire or drink himself to death by next year.

There was one small light in his life at the moment though. A woman as strong and fearless as Darill was slowly taking over Setzer's life, like a steadily rising star. He was not sure if he was in love with her or simply obsessed with the spiritual resemblance to his former flame, but it didn't matter. The famous opera singer Maria was filling the gaping hole in Setzer's life left by Darill, even if she didn't know it.

As Setzer completed the last run of the day - a quick tour of the faraway town Mobliz for some over-rich and overweight Jidoor noble named Owser - he thought about next month's big production at the opera house. Called "The Dream Oath", it was touted as the greatest adaptation of the famous Draco and Maria legend yet, not to be missed. And this was one show that Setzer would most certainly not pass up.

"Such a backwater place, don't you think, captain?" Owser's oily voice piped from Setzer's side as he piloted the airship. "Nothing of value there at all, and after I paid so much money to see it for myself. A pity."

Setzer ignored the prattling of the fat man and kept his eyes on the reddening skies. It would soon be dark, and he was eager to drop this man off at his mansion in Jidoor. He despised men who flaunted their wealth so outrageously as Owser, but these were the types of people who paid for his freedom now. Setzer was not the best example of wealth, assuredly, but he couldn't help but think he was a better man than this toad croaking beside him.

As per the usual custom with the elite of his customers, Setzer saw Owser to the door of his vast castle of a house once they had returned to Jidoor.

"I hope you enjoyed your flight, sir," Setzer said with false politeness he knew the noble would completely ignore.

"Oh, it was fine, I suppose." Owser said half-heartedly. "Not a very impressive destination, but the flight was a joy, as always. Thank you Setzer, that will be all."

The man waddled off to his various other vices, and left Setzer standing in the gaudy foyer alone. Now was his chance to put his plans into motion. He was tired of just looking, it was time to touch the forbidden fruit, or go insane with grief and loneliness. Darill would not approve of such low-born acts of lust, but Setzer was a man obsessed. He was tired of ending each night alone. Either Maria would be his, or he would die. Simple as that.

He waved to the nearby master servant of the house and gave him a very important letter, to be delivered to the impresario of the opera house on the opening night of "The Dream Oath". Setzer could easily deliver the letter himself, of course, but he was a busy man, and it would not do to make his appearance before the stage was set, so to speak. He had always had a flair for the dramatic, and this was to be his finest performance.

Before he slinked back to the closest bar for the night, Setzer looked over his handiwork one last time as he instructed the master servant. The letter was short and to the point, but it said all Setzer wanted known until he was ready. The plan would either work or it wouldn't. His life was just another chip in Lady Luck's pile now, and soon he would have to show his hand. But would Maria play the game Setzer had devised to bury his sorrows?

_She must. We all must play the hand we've been dealt, and unfortunately for you Maria, this particular game has been rigged in my favor. Now, let us make sure the first move is worded just right..._

"My Dear Maria,

I want you for my wife. I'm coming for you...

- The Wandering Gambler, Setzer"


	7. Strago and Relm

**~Strago and Relm~**

"I'm outta here, you old fuddy-duddy!"

Strago only looked at his granddaughter for moment after her outburst, his eyes still half-shut from sleep. The day had just started, and already they were arguing.

"Relm, please listen to me." Strago pleaded . "I have friends coming over today, and I was hoping you could stay and join us. Won't you at least try and behave for our guests?"

The small girl looked at her wrinkled old grandpa like he was crazy. She scrunched up her nose in disdain, her eyes blazing with unspent energy.

"Heck no! I don't want to spend my day with a bunch of other old fuddy-duddies! You have fun gramps, I'm going over to Lei's house and do something that isn't BORING. Laters!"

The precocious girl was out the front door in a flash of blond hair and a twirl of her little cape, leaving her grandpa before he could even try to argue. As usual.

"Oh, that child!" Strago fumed as he stood in the living room alone, his fists shaking with anger. After a moment, he calmed himself and rubbed the last bit of sleep from his eyes. Another wonderful start to another wonderful day.

_Nothing to do for it now. Might as well get things ready for Gung-ho and the Elder. When will Relm ever settle down? Or perhaps I really am getting too old..._

Strago sighed as he straightened his back and began his morning routine. Every day was the same here in Thamasa. Sometimes being the descendants of exiled mages could be such a pain. Surely the world had forgotten the crimes of their distant ancestors by now? As Strago flicked the lights on in the dining room with a magical snap of his fingers, he wonder if that were really true.

_No, the Elder is probably right. It would be the War of the Magi all over again. Only this time we would be the magical beings people hunted down for their powers. Some power, though! I can barely keep a candle lit, and the Elder fears the abuse of our magic?_

It was an old argument, and it was unlikely Strago would see an end to it today. The life of all Thamasans was very simple - never leave the village, never use magic in public. Everyone but Gung-ho had followed these words for centuries, being drilled from birth about the atrocities that were committed against the surviving Mages after the war ended. The few outsiders that managed to find their secluded hamlet were treated with cold courtesy, and given strong hints to make their visit short. Most got the message, and for a very long time life in the village had been peaceful, if not sometimes restrictive.

_I'm too old to care about seeing the world now. Leave those passions to people like Gung-ho, and heaven forbid, Relm. Now, where did I put that plate?_

As Strago tottered around his house preparing for his guests, Relm happily skipped to her friend's house, her quarrel with her grandpa already forgotten. The mind of a young girl was quick to anger, and equally quick to forgive and move on to the next big thing. For today, that thing was playing with Lei while his own grandpa was away. It just so happened Lei was the grandson of Gung-ho, and the gathering of the elders of Thamasa at Strago's was a prime excuse for mischief.

"Hey Lei, it's Relm! Lemme in!" Relm shouted as she ran up to the large house at the center of the village.

The forbidding mansion that rose up darkly in front of the girl belonged to Gung-ho, and for the moment, to his grandson. While Lei's grandpa was away, Relm and Lei planned on exploring the vast, ancient house all by themselves. They had heard rumors of all sorts of hidden rooms and treasures tucked away inside the house, and this was their chance to find something cool to show off to the other kids. Normally when Gung-ho was away on his little adventures, Strago or the Elder kept them from having any fun, but today they had the house all to themselves.

"Aw, Relm, keep it down, will ya? If my granddad hears you, we'll be busted for sure." Lei's small head poked out of one of the upper windows, and his voice whined down to his approaching friend in half-whispers. Once he saw it was Relm, he ducked back inside, leaving Relm tapping her foot impatiently at his doorstep.

After an agonizing minute of waiting, Relm heard a click, and saw Lei's head poke out the front door just like it had the upper window. His furtive glances back into the house told Relm that Gung-ho was still inside, no doubt preparing to leave for the exciting meeting at her house. Oh boy.

"C'mon, get in here quick!" Lei whispered, grabbing Relm's tiny arm and dragging her into one of the side hallways of the labyrinthine house. Before Relm knew what was happening, she found herself inside a small cubby-hole with Lei, finger to his lips.

Relm was about to say something to Lei that would have made her grandpa blush, but just as she opened her mouth she saw Gung-ho making his way towards them. She could sneak as good as Lei when she wanted to, and kept her lips shut tight, despite wanting to yell at her friend. Gung-ho passed the small alcove without seeing the two children, and made his way out the door and up the hill to Strago's.

"That was close!" Lei said, breathing out a big sigh of relief. "Alright, let's get down to business!"

While Relm and her friend made their plans for what little adventure they could find in the confines of their small world, the three elders of Thamasa were having their friendly get-together at Strago's. The only plans they had for the day were sharing old stories and reminiscing about the good old days. For old men who were far too wise for the world to surprise them anymore, reliving their past adventures was as close to the wonderful innocence of youth that they could hope to reach.

Strago welcomed his long-time friends, and apologized for the lack of his granddaughter.

"Did you really expect her to stay?" Gung-ho laughed. "Heck, even I was tempted to skip out and give that beast Hidon another crack!"

"Unless you can breath under water, I don't think you'd have any more success than all the other times!" Strago quipped. "You know that monster's nest has been submerged since the earthquake. Face it, the last bit of our glory days has left us. We're nothing but regular old men, now."

"You two never change," the Elder said with a smile. "Come, put on some mandrake tea and sit down. You said you had a real doozy of a story to tell us today, Strago."

Strago sat down and rubbed his aching legs, memories flooding his mind. Yes, he had a rare gem to share with them today. He had been waiting to tell this particular tale for a while, and wanted to make sure he could tell it to both the Elder and Gung-ho. The Elder was always busy with his duties, and Gung-ho tended to be away from the village far too often. He had hoped Relm could be here to hear this story, as well, but...some other time.

"This is a story very close to my heart, so if I get emotional at times, forgive this sentimental old fool." Strago began, clearing his throat. The other men sat silently, waiting to see what Strago had in store for them.

"As you probably know, Relm is not my real granddaughter..."

"Achoo!" Relm sneezed as she swept the dust off her beret and crawled back into the hallway to search out another room. "Why is your house so dusty?"

"Sorry." Lei said quietly. "Ever since my dad died things have kinda gotten messy around here. Grandpa Gung-ho likes to stay outdoors, and my mom just mopes around all day. She'll sleep all day today, I bet."

"Oops, sorry." Relm stuttered.

She knew how Lei felt. She had lost her own parents when she was only a baby. Her mother had died a mysterious death that no one wanted to talk about with her, and her father...she had no idea what had happened to her father. Now, it was just her and her grandpa. Gah, she hated that crotchety old man sometimes!

_I bet my real dad would've let me go exploring, would have let me use magic, maybe even let me paint his picture. I don't even know what he looked like, and gramps won't tell me anything. Says I'm 'not old enough'. I bet my dad was handsome, and brave, and strong and.._

"Hey Relm?" Lei asked, interrupting Relm's thoughts.

"What?" She scowled at him and sneezed again as the dust fell on her face. The two of them were alone in an abandoned room full of pictures of Lei's family.

"Do you think you could paint a picture for me?" Lei asked, a little embarrassed.

"Oh, that again? You know I'm not really supposed to do that kind of stuff." Relm pouted, then raised her eyebrow. "Unless you want me to paint a REAL picture. I'm allowed to do that, although it's not nearly as much fun."

"Um," Lei hesitated, turning redder by the second. "Have you ever tried..., uh..."

"Spit it out dummy! What do you want me to do?"

Lei bit his lip and blurted out his request. "Could you paint my dad? Could you do that thing you do, and bring him back?"

"Lei..." Relm whispered, as if he had just cursed.

"I know, I know! You're not allowed...but no one's here, and look...there's a portrait of him right on the mantle. Please?"

"I...it doesn't work that way, Lei," Relm said sadly.

"C'mon! Try it! For me?" Lei pleaded, tears twinkling in his eyes as he spoke.

Relm definitely knew her friend's pain, and felt tears in the back of her eyes, too. Perhaps this was why they were friends. They both were so young, yet knew the indescribable pain of a lost parent. Relm had a strange magical gift, a gift to make what she saw come to life with the touch of a paintbrush...but there were limits to what she could do.

_Lei, you dummy...don't you think I've tried that? I've tried it a million times. It doesn't work. It just makes you sadder when the picture person doesn't recognize you..._

But that look in his eyes was almost fanatical. Was this the real reason Lei had wanted them to play here today? Relm didn't want to do this. She wanted to have fun and play explorer in the musty old house, not relive bad memories of those days...

"Please, Relm...try..." Lei said quietly, gulping back his tears.

"Ooh...alright, I'll do it," Relm said petulantly, but with a warm look of compassion in her too young face. "But don't get all mad when it doesn't work like you want it to."

Lei's face lit up like a firecracker and he clapped his hands with glee. "Yippee! I won't get mad, I promise!" He wiped the tears from his eyes and grabbed his father's portrait, reverently placing it on a chair in the middle of the room. Once the portrait was in position, Lei plopped himself down on a white sheet that had been covering some old furniture, looking every bit like a kid waiting for a magic show to start. "C'mon, do your stuff!" he squealed happily.

Relm didn't smile. She remained silent as she pulled her ever-handy brush from her belt. She knew how this was going to end, and Lei would hate her for the rest of the day now. But, she couldn't say no to him, not when she knew how much it hurt, and how badly he wanted to see his dad again.

_Forgive me, Lei. Forgive me, mom._

She put her trusty brush to her mouth and wet it, sticking out her tongue as she smoothed the chocobo-feathered tip with her nimble fingers. Studying the portrait of the somber-looking man for a moment, she closed her eyes and imagined the man reaching out, putting his hand on his son's shoulder, smiling...

"Relm's mother was a close friend of our family for years," Strago said with a voice stronger than his years would suggest. Telling stories about the ones he loved always brought a new vitality to his spirit.

"My wife and I were never able to have children, bless her soul, but Bonnie was always there for us, helping us out as we got older, bringing a light into our lives we never thought we'd experience. She truly was a daughter to us. When my wife passed, Bonnie was all I had left. To see her fall into the hands of...that man..." Strago stopped his story and rubbed his forehead, a wave of anger passing over his face. This was the hard part of the story. If it wasn't for that man!

"We know, Strago," the Elder said. "That outsider should never have been allowed into our village, wounded or no. He brought nothing but pain wherever he went. He was a shadow on us all."

"Now, now," Gung-ho said calmly. "He wasn't so bad once you got to know him. I had some good times hunting with him, and he was surprisingly good with a knife. Granted, he was pretty rough around the edges, but he really cared for the people of the village. Just had some rotten luck, is all."

"What do you know of him?" Strago said a little too loudly. "All you saw was the outsider, the quiet loner that never hurt anyone. Well I'll tell you something, Gung-ho. That man hurt my Bonnie, and he hurt Relm perhaps even more!"

"Calm down," Gung-ho replied just as calmly as before. "We know what happened, at least on the outside. Remember, this is your story. Go on and tell it however you want. I won't interrupt or argue with you."

"Sorry," Strago said, trying to steady his shaking hands. "Yes, Bonnie was completely smitten with that man. When he arrived covered in blood, she was the only one who would help him." Strago stopped and looked squarely at Gung-ho, as if challenging him to say something. "You know, that blood on his clothes wasn't all his."

Both the Elder and Gung-ho looked at Strago wide-eyed. They didn't know this part of the story.

"He wouldn't tell us what happened to him, or where that blood came from, but after everything went down, I had my suspicions." Strago put his hands flat on the table and leaned towards the two silent men. "I think he killed someone. And I don't doubt for a second that Bonnie died because of something he did. He brought something evil with him from the outside world, and that taint took Bonnie away from us!" Strago was wheezing with effort as he glowered at the two men, wanting them to say something, wanting to defame the wretched villain that had killed his daughter a little more.

"Strago...do you really think that?" the Elder said, dumbstruck. "I know the man was an ill omen, but murder?"

"If he didn't do it with his own hands, then he knows who did it. Why else would he run off after her body was found? He was guilty of something, of that I'm sure."

"Strago, it's not good to dwell on such things with so much anger. We're too old to get carried away with our emotions." Gung-ho said a little fearfully. If his friend wasn't careful, he might just make himself self-destruct. Run with the beasts too long, and you pick up more than just their attacks...

"You said it yourself!" Strago strained, his wiry old voice cracking. "You saw how good he was with a knife. Where does a man like that learn to fight? He was a scoundrel, and brought all the evils our ancestors tried to get away from right back onto our feeble heads." Suddenly the air went out of Strago's sails, and he slumped back into his chair. "I should have watched him more closely. Especially after Relm was born. I should have known how it would all end..."

The other two old men got up and put their hands on Strago's hunched shoulders. Bonnie's death had hit the small village hard. Everyone knew everyone here, and one person's death was always felt that much more strongly because of the shared mageblood they all possessed. They were all family in this place.

"Strago, I know it doesn't mean much, but I felt the same way when my son died." Gung-ho said, his calm breaking for the first time. "You can't wallow in the past. Don't be like my daughter-in-law, lost in her own world of regrets. Bonnie's gone, and you need to let her go. For Relm's sake."

"Relm..." Strago said, sniffing as he dried his eyes. "She should have had a father. A real father to show her how to act like a proper little girl. All she got was this...fuddy-duddy..."

"Quiet!" Relm hissed through clenched teeth whenever Lei chirped in excitement. Her tongue still stuck out to one side, and she had one hand stretched out in front of her, measuring the invisible angles in the air as she painted.

But there was no paint, and no surface to paint on. She was waving her brush through empty space, her eyes still closed. To an outsider, this would look absurd. But Relm's talent was well-known in the village, and anyone who saw her in this state knew to expect a miracle at any moment. How often had people seen her gaily sitting under a tree, painting butterflies as they passed, only to see twice as many butterflies magically appear and flutter about her head before vanishing back into her imagination? The mageblood that flowed through the people of Thamasa granted many strange talents, but few were as strong, or as beautiful, as Relm's.

Lei watched with intense longing as Relm made her deft motions in the air. At first, there was nothing, but slowly a form began to shimmer in front of her, and the strokes she made seemed to smooth the form out, give it a proper shape. With each swipe of her brush, parts of the mirage sharpened, and soon Lei could see familiar features emerge from the lumpy fog of magical energy.

"It's him!" Lei gasped, wondering what he would say to his father when he saw him again. There was so much to tell him! Perhaps if Relm really tried, she could make him last longer than the few moments her magical paintings usually kept.

"Shhh!" Relm hissed again, opening one eye to glare at Lei and make sure her magic was working. "Don't mess up my concentration!" Painting butterflies was easy. Trying to paint a full human, in all their infinite nuances, was an arduous task. And ultimately a disappointing one. As she saw the shape of Lei's father materialize in front of her, she knew this time would be no different. And she had really tried to push past her limits this time! She had actually thought for a moment that this time it might work. This time it might be different.

"Father!" Lei said, tears rolling down his chubby cheeks. He jumped up and tried to hug his father as the man appeared before him. It was a perfect likeness, indistinguishable from the real father Lei had loved with all his heart. He even looked down at Lei with those big, stern eyes that were a part of the boy's deepest memories. The phantom image stretched out its arms to embrace his flesh and blood, a look of kindness filling his features...

But Lei only tumbled through his father, landing on the floor behind them. Relm had to look away.

The father continued to look at his son with those same eyes, his expression of unutterable kindness still shimmering. As Lei looked into his ghost father's unchanging eyes, it was then he realized what Relm had done.

"Father, talk to me! Say something!" Lei begged the image. But it only shook its head, opening its arms again for another embrace. Was this all it could do?

Lei backed away from the false father, knowing that Relm had been right. She had painted his father all right. But her magical painting could only do what the source material knew how to do. Lei looked at the portrait he had chosen one more time. It was true. The look on his father's face in that portrait was the same one he wore now, and the portrait's arms were lovingly wrapped around a younger Lei, just like the ghost that stood there, unchanging.

"I'm sorry, Lei...I really tried this time," Relm said sadly, watching Lei go through the same inner turmoil that she had faced herself every time she tried to paint her mother.

Strangely, there were no paintings of her father, so she was never able to work her magic on his image. For some reason, gramps had gotten rid of every trace of her father, and refused to even mention his name. Relm usually just gave whatever her grandpa threw at her right back, but when it came to her father, she found the old man to be quite fearsome. She had stopped asking about her father a long time ago, knowing it would only put her grandpa into that scary mood that was so unlike his normal push-over self.

Lei snuffled loudly, and turned his head as the image of his father faded back into nothingness. He knew he shouldn't have expected this to work. But he had wanted it so bad! It wasn't fair!

"Daddy, I miss you...:" Lei sobbed.

Relm nodded, and carefully walked over to where Lei sat in a heap. She put her arms around him and hugged him tightly, her real body touching his in shared pain.

_Mommy, Daddy, I miss you too._

"I don't know what to do about that granddaughter of mine," Strago said unhappily, sipping his mandrake tea and trying to calm himself after his previous outburst. "She's a tornado, with no manners, no self-control! And I swear she hates me!"

Gung-ho nodded in understanding. "My grandson can be a handful at times too. Don't worry too much about her. I'm sure she loves you as much as you love her. She's been through some tough times, and that's bound to leave its mark. You just have to be patient, and love her for who she is. Even when she calls you names and storms off, she still comes back at the end of every day, does she not?"

Strago smiled. "Yes, she does. And she always carries a faint look of shame with her when she walks back in that door, too. I think she knows how she is, but she just can't help it. She is a ball of energy, but she's my ball of energy. Bonnie would never let me sleep in peace if I didn't take care of her daughter as if she was my own. And I do my best."

"I can't argue with you there," Gung-ho said, getting up. "Now, it's getting late, and I think we need to get home. Your Relm should be getting back soon, and she probably doesn't want to see our wrinkly old faces here when she gets back. Thanks for the tea, and thanks for telling us your story. I know it must have been hard."

"It was a good kind of hardness," Strago said, feeling better than he had felt in a long time.

"Glad to hear it." Gung-ho said as he grabbed his hat and coat. He gave Strago a guilty look as he headed for the door. "I hate to spring this on you, but I'm leaving again, and I don't know when I'll be back."

"Not Hidon again?" the Elder spoke up, weary of the old men's never-ending quest to slay the beast, if it even existed at all.

"No, I'm going abroad. I sense that things are getting pretty nasty in the outside world, and I think it would be in all our best interests if I checked around, got some news on what's happening. The people of Mobliz aren't that far away, and the hunters there usually keep up with the goings-on of the world. I won't be long, only a few months at most."

"Take care, Gung-ho." Strago said. He grasped his comrade-in-arms with a tight handshake. They had been warriors once, and they both knew trouble was brewing just over the horizon. There would be no debate over Gung-ho's decision to leave the village like there usually was.

"You take care too, Strago." Gung-ho said, a rare look of concern in his wizened face.

"Don't worry about us," the Elder said, gathering his own things to leave. "Thamasa has stood here for a thousand years. It's not going anywhere any time soon. We'll all be here waiting for you when you return, just like we always are." the Elder looked wistfully at the stars just beginning to twinkle outside. "If there's one thing we Thamasans know how to do, it's endure. We're a stubborn brood of magical misfits, and it will take quite the catastrophe to change anything in this sleepy little place."

"I hope you're right," Gung-ho said with a yawn, pretending not to be overly concerned with his home's safety. "Well then, I think it's time we left. See you soon, Strago."

"Right, see you soon, Gung-ho."

With the two old friends gone, Strago sighed and began clearing the table. It had been a long day, with many tales shared, and many tears shed. But he felt good getting it all out of his system. Now if only Relm would behave!

_Bonnie, I hope you're not ashamed of the way I've raised your daughter. I've done the best these old bones can. She's a headstrong young thing, and she makes me so mad sometimes! But I love her with all my heart. If anything happened to her, I don't know what I'd do..._

"Hey Gramps!"

Strago wiped his eyes quickly and turned to find Relm bounding into the door, just in time for dinner. There was a strange look on her face that Strago had never seen before. She looked...older, somehow.

"I'm tired, Relm, dear. I don't have the energy to argue with you right now." Strago said weakly, expecting the girl to tear into him for not having dinner made.

Much to his surprise, the small child only leapt into his arms and hugged him tight, burying her face in his chest. What was this?

"I love you, grandpa." Relm said simply and sincerely.

Strago was so taken aback that he stood there like a statue for a moment, then with rush of warmth he hugged his grandchild back, unsure what had brought on this sudden display of rare emotion from his unruly child.

"I love you too, Relm." Strago responded, not asking for any explanations, and not needing any.

Relm pulled her head out of Strago's chest for a brief peek into his face. Her eyes were dry now, but Strago could tell she had been crying. He supposed his eyes looked the same. She smiled up at him, and the beauty of her angelic gaze broke Strago's heart.

"Do you think we could have pancakes for dinner?" Relm said impishly.

_Pancakes for dinner? Hah, why not? They were Bonnie's favorite too._

"Of course, my dear."

For the rest of that night, a brief moment of quiet harmony endured inside the small house where two lost souls were brought together through shared sorrow, and shared love. Tomorrow was sure to bring new arguments, new reasons for harsh words, and new adventures in the confined realm of Thamasa. But for now, there was nothing but love in the magical house of Strago and Relm.


	8. Cyan

**~Cyan~**

"Honey?"

Cyan turned over in his bed, eyes closed tight, a look of pain on his face.

_No! Get away!_

"Wake up! You're having that dream again, aren't you?"

_I have to keep running...running, running, running..._

A firm hand grabbed Cyan as he tossed and turned, gently reminding him where he was. The stricken dreamer woke from his troubled night's sleep in a panic. Sweat covered his body, staining the bed he shared with his wife, Elaine. The look of a hunted animal briefly shown in his eyes before he recognized Elaine's peaceful face staring back at him. It was over.

As he slowly recovered his senses, Elaine softly tucked his disheveled, sodden hair back, wiping the sweat from his face with a loving hand. She knew exactly what was going on in her husband's head, as she always did. The two had been married for over twenty years and knew each other's weaknesses and strengths, quirks and habits inside and out. Cyan swore his wife was inside his mind sometimes, calming him, giving him strength.

"It was the chasing dream again, wasn't?" Elaine's kind voice said from his side.

"Yes." Cyan said quietly, blushing. It was shameful to admit such weakness. But if he couldn't confide in his own wife, who could he trust?

Elaine smiled at her husband's predictable reaction. She rolled over to face him squarely, her elbow on his chest and her chin resting on her hand. "You know," she said conversationally, "I think that dream is just your way of dealing with your fear of machines."

"And what, pray tell, makes you think that?" Cyan said, somewhat in a huff. He did not like his humiliating distrust of machines being brought up, even in the privacy of their bedroom. A warrior did not show fear of anything, especially inanimate objects! But his wife was as intelligent as she was beautiful, and so he listened with a slight scowl twitching his mustache.

"Well, think about it," Elaine started, a look of deep thought on her face. "The dream's always the same. You find yourself being chased by the Empire's magitek armor through endless caves, never getting away, but never turning around to fight, either. Right?"

"'Tis the general flow of the dream, yes," Cyan admitted. His wife knew him very well.

Elaine lifted her head from her hand and poked her husband in the chest. "It makes perfect sense. The dream is telling you that you need to stop running from your fears, and to face them head-on. Otherwise, you'll just keep running in circles."

"So far, you have the right of it, I suppose," Cyan agreed, reluctantly. A thought came to him, and he smiled. "What is there to be done about it, though? Shall I march up to the Imperial base, sword in hand, and declare myself the Warrior of Doma, and demand a duel with every detestable piece of equipment on hand?"

Elaine laughed, and Cyan laughed too. She stuck her tongue out at his quip. "Perhaps we should start smaller? A duel with one of Owain's toy soldiers might be better."

They both laughed again, and got up from their bed to start the day. Cyan was in much better spirits now, thanks to the playful ministrations of his wife. The sun was shining through the window, and a small head was peering in at them, its wide eyes as bright as the dawn. It was Cyan's and Elaine's only son, Owain.

"Papa! Let's go fishing again today!" Owain bubbled, already wide awake and impatient to start the day's activities.

Cyan blushed again, chagrined at his ten-year-old son seeing him with Elaine in bed still. The boy was just too curious for his own good!

"Now Owain, you must not disturb your parents before they are properly dressed and out of bed." Cyan said sternly, but with a smile on his face.

"I am sorry, father..." Owain said automatically and withdrew his head from the window. He was practically shaking with excitement, but managed to behave himself while his parents finished getting ready. His father had worked hard to teach him how to be proper and noble, like a Warrior of Doma should. Sometimes it was hard to stay still, but he must try to be like his father at all times.

After a few agonizing minutes, Elaine opened the bedroom door and entered the small internal garden where Owain waited like a trembling statue. Elaine smiled warmly and hugged her son good morning.

"Oh Mama! What's taking Papa so long? I want to train today!"

Elaine smiled wider and raised one eyebrow. "I thought you said you wanted to go fishing?"

"Nah, I changed my mind! I want to be a Warrior, like Papa!"

Cyan appeared in the doorway, carrying a heavy suit of fine Doman armor under his arms.

"So the lad wants to play at swords this day? Then we shall greet the morning with a clash of steel!" Cyan announced grandly. Owain almost burst with glee, and ran away from his parents to get his practice sword from the castle armory.

Cyan and Elaine silently watched their pride and joy bound away through the castle garden and up the stairs. It would be another fine day inside the thick walls of Doma Castle, no matter what storms were gathering just outside. For now, they must enjoy what small offerings of peace they could find, for each day brought the Empire closer to their doorstep.

"How much longer do you think we can keep the truth from him, Cyan?" Elaine said, her smile fading into a concerned frown.

"As long as we can, my love. I will not let the Empire dictate how I live my life in my own home!" Cyan said vehemently.

"But yesterday's reports claim that the Imperial troops have occupied another stretch of farmland. First the railways were smashed, and now our farms, our food!" Elaine almost shouted.

"Calm yourself, Elaine," Cyan reproved. "So far, the Empire has behaved with impeccable respect for the innocent civilians caught in the middle of this stand-off. They may be led by a dog of an emperor, but the troops stationed here have shed remarkably little blood and have refrained from any wanton destruction. Remember, no loaded trains were attacked, just the empty cars and rail lines. And the farmers and villagers in the occupied regions have been explicitly warned that no harm will come to them as long as they do not take up arms. Whoever is in charge, he has my thanks for his noble tactics. We may lose this battle in the end, but there is no shame in losing to a worthy opponent in a fair battle."

"Oh, Cyan, you and your honor!" Elaine yelled in frustration. "Honor doesn't mean anything if you're dead!"'

"Be still, wife!" Cyan said firmly, but in the same level tone as before. "I will not lay down my sword simply because the opponent plays fair, of that I can assure you." To emphasize his point, he drew a long, slender blade from the scabbard attached to the armor in his other hand, and slashed through the air with it. It sung beautifully.

"Cyan...I worry about Owain, about us..." Elaine said abruptly, grabbing her husbands strong sword arm.

"Never worry, my love. I will protect our family, and our kingdom with my life. No Imperial soldier will step foot inside this castle as long as I draw breath."

_That's what I'm afraid of._ Elaine thought sadly. Her husband was a man of his word, and she knew sooner or later the niceties of this war would fade, and the grim reality of blood-soaked battle would settle upon the castle's gates. How much would her husband's honor be worth then?

Elaine remained silent and moody as she helped Cyan strap on his armor. It was all she could do to smile when Owain came running back with his dulled practice blade in hand and padded leather armor proudly tied tight around his waist.

"Awright! Let's duel!" Owain yelled, waving his harmless sword back and forth.

Cyan briefly squeezed his wife's hand tenderly and discreetly, then took several steps towards his son, getting into proper battle stance. Owain had the makings of a fine warrior, and Cyan swelled with pride as he watched his boy mimic his starting stance perfectly. Yes, someday Owain would hold the family sword in his hands as a true Garamonde, ready to lay his life down for king and kingdom. That was the way of the Warrior, and the way of Doma. Cyan would do everything in his power to ensure that there was still a Doma to protect when his son came of age.

Several hours passed as father and son sparred vigorously. Cyan was a strict taskmaster when it came to swordplay, but his son was a fine student, and never showed signs of anger or frustration, even when his sword was slapped from his little hands by Cyan's much larger blade. Both were damp with perspiration by the time the training was done, and Cyan was pleased with his son's progress. Soon there would be another fine addition to the ranks of the legendary Warriors of Doma.

Elaine joined the two sweaty fighters with three glasses of fresh lemonade in hand. All three sat down in the shade of a cherry tree and enjoyed their midday's reward. For the moment, the family of three was at peace within the sanctuary of the castle walls. No one knew how long it would last, but for now, they were happy.

"Sir Cyan, a letter from the Empire!" A messenger from the frontlines rushed into the garden and interrupted the quiet moment. A shadow passed over Elaine's features, but Cyan only stood at attention and received the letter, no sign of emotion on his face. His eyes scanned the contents of the letter quickly. There was no sign of whether it was good news or bad on his face as he returned the letter to the messenger.

"Has our king seen this letter?" was all Cyan said in response.

"Yes, he asked me to deliver it to you as well."

Cyan sighed, the first display of emotion he had shown since the messenger arrived. "I will meet with my liege immediately. Thank you, friend."

The messenger bowed and excused himself. Elaine and Owain looked at Cyan anxiously. For a moment, he simply stood where he was and looked out at the sky peaking over the high castle walls, a slight breeze blowing throw his hair.

_So peaceful. So quiet. It is always so before the storm._

"Elaine, take Owain inside and do not wander about the castle today."

Owain began to protest, but Elaine grabbed his arm with her firm hand and he quieted.

"Has it begun?" Elaine said, knowing Cyan would understand her perfectly.

"It has," was all Cyan would reveal in front of his innocent son. "I will be back before nightfall, I promise." Cyan patted his son's head affectionately, his eyes full of love. "You play inside today, Owain. I shall return in time for supper. Until then, listen to your mother, do you understand?"

Owain straightened himself up, and said proudly, "I'll take care of Mama. Don't worry about us, Papa!"

Cyan smiled, and nodded gravely at his gallant little warrior. "Elaine, do not worry. The spirit of Doma is unbreakable." Cyan leaned forward and put his hands on his wife's shoulders. He wanted to kiss her good-bye, but not in front of his son. Such things were not suitable to young eyes. He simply held her for a moment, then let go, his eyes full of longing.

Elaine's eyes said she knew exactly what her husband was thinking. She nodded and stood strong for her son.

"I shall return in a few hours. Be strong, both of you." Cyan said, and turned to leave.

_Disturbing news...but not unexpected. We must prepare for the worst now, and pray the strength of our people holds out a little longer._

Cyan mulled over the letter as he walked through the sunlit pathways of the castle that led to the throne room. From the ground, the castle was almost impenetrable, but it was completely open to attack from the air. But who could attack from the air?

_The Empire and their damnable machines, that is who. First walking armored suits, now flying armored drones. A single fleet of these "Telstar" satellites could wipe out Doma if they were deployed. Every day the Empire constructs newer, stranger weapons of war. How are they managing such innovation? What was the secret behind this strange new power of "Magitek"?_

"Sir Cyan!"

"My lord!"

"Welcome, Sir Cyan!"

"It is an honor to see you again, Sir Cyan!"

Cyan passed many Doman warriors as he marched through the castle deep in thought. Everywhere he went, he was greeted with respect, and sometimes awe. He was the finest among them, and the best weapon they had against the endless horde of Imperial soldiers and machines. Generations upon generations of finely honed Doman teaching had created the ultimate swordsman in Cyan Garamonde. A thousand Imperial troops couldn't stand before the greatest Warrior of Doma to ever live.

Or so Cyan's admirers claimed. The truth was, Cyan was only human, and he was acutely aware of that. His pride would never let him admit weakness to others, but his dreams told him the truth, just as his wife had suggested.

_I must stop running from the truth, and from my own weakness. To understand this modern enemy, I must stand my ground and face my own shortcomings. I am but a single man with a sword, against fantastic machines that I find impossible to understand, let alone combat. But I must stop running away. Let the Empire's "Magitek" come! I will be ready to fight them, tooth and nail. I will pit my own steel against theirs, and we will see who is the stronger!_

Cyan bent to his knee as soon he entered his lord's throne room. Despite being older than the king by almost a generation, Cyan still acted with total deference to his liege lord. His current lord's father had ruled admirably, and Cyan had served under him with honor and distinction until the old man passed away quietly in his sleep several years ago. Now, Cyan gave his sword to the old king's son with equal loyalty. The new king was young, but he had fire as well as wisdom despite his years. He knew when to fight, and he knew when to stand down and listen to his elder warriors' counsel.

The young King of Doma looked up from his reports as Cyan entered the throne room, then jumped up and enthusiastically greeted his old mentor. "Ah, Cyan! Thank you for coming! Please, rise! Join me!"

Cyan slowly rose and walked up to his lord. He knelt once more at the young man's feet, and unsheathed his exquisite sword, holding the naked blade outstretched in his palms to the king like a gift.

"I am here to reaffirm my vow to protect king and kingdom, My Lord. This humble sword is yours to command."

The king shook his head bashfully and laughed. "Enough of that, Cyan! Is there anyone in this castle that does not know where your loyalty lies? Please, stand and let us shake hands as equals. When the enemy comes to our door, we all know it will be Cyan Garamonde who will lead the troops to victory, not I!"

"My lord!" Cyan said, shocked. "I am but a lowly warrior, a simple liegeman! It is your guiding hand that will win the day. I am only a weapon, to be used as you see fit."

"Even in all these years, you haven't changed," the king said kindly. "Very well, have it your way. But we both know who our soldiers will follow first, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

Cyan opened his mouth to protest again, but the king waved his hand, and commanded his friend to have a seat beside him.

"Now then, I assume you have read the letter, so let's not beat around the bush," the king started matter-of-factly.

"Indeed I have, My Lord." Cyan said, as politely as before. His honor would not have it any other way. "The Blackjack has been sighted again bringing in a fresh wave of supplies, troops, and weaponry."

The king clasped his hands together and peered up at the ceiling, as if he could see the massive airship hovering above them through the stones. His face was grim now. "We cannot compete with the Empire's resources much longer. And if our spies are right, this newest batch of weaponry has a potentially disastrous addition."

"Flying Magitek." Cyan responded simply. They both knew the weakness of their castle.

"Yes. How would you suggest we defend ourselves against such a threat?"

Cyan shifted uncomfortably. "I am afraid I cannot think of a suitable defense. These mechanical horrors are beyond anything Doma has seen since the War of the Magi. If the Empire decides to use them, we may have to...abandon the castle."

"Unacceptable!" The king said passionately. Doma Castle had endured since before the ancient War of the Magi, over a thousand years ago. To abandon their home of millennia now would be an unbearable outrage.

"I agree." Cyan said with equal passion. "I will stand here and fend off the Empire's Magitek fiends to the end, but it would be wise to evacuate the women and children in light of this new threat. Only our troops will remain inside the castle." Cyan thought only of Elaine and Owain as he said this, wondering if his wife and son would agree to leave him behind. Could he agree to let them go, though?

The king nodded his consent. "Yes, I think that would be prudent. Our walls have protected our families for generations, but times are changing, and Doma must change with them, or perish. I will see to the evacuation myself." The king picked up some of his reports that were scattered around him. "Now then, we must discuss what to do about the rest of the Empire's forces in the meantime. I hear they plan to bring in another general soon to replace the current one, and this may change the tactics we have seen thus far..."

Cyan and the king continued talking over the many movements and strategies of their deteriorating situation for many hours, and throughout that time, the only thing on Cyan's mind was his family, and their future. Time's were changing, and Cyan was not a man who liked change.

_I say we must prepare for evacuation, but that is not what I believe. This is our home! How dare the Empire tell us how and where we must live! I, for one, will never leave the soil where I was born and raised. Let this new general come. I will show him the meaning of honor, if he has any at all! _

As the sun began to set, Cyan and the king wearily put the last of the reports to the side. They had done all they could to prepare, to plan, to make-do in a situation that was looking more hopeless by the day. What would come must come, and they were as ready as they would ever be.

Both men looked at each other with the same thought as they rose to leave - Would this new phase of the war bring and end to the almost incomprehensibly long history of Doma? Would the next pages of their kingdom's story be written in their own blood?

_Elaine, Owain...I will not fail you. I will not fail my kingdom. I will not fail my King. I am a warrior of honor. I am Cyan Garamonde, and I have no fear. Death has no power over me._

Cyan repeated this mantra as he made his way back to his small quarters nestled comfortably inside the castle. He would protect his world with his life. As long as Cyan lived, so, too, would the kingdom of Doma.

Elaine opened the door and greeted her husband warmly after his long day discussing war. Cyan surprised her with a beautiful bouquet of silk-woven roses that he pulled carefully from behind his back. This was his secret talent, something no one but his wife knew about, but something he took great pleasure in nonetheless. The proud warrior, a master of the sword, and a weaver of the finest embroidered flowers in the land.

Sewing these masterpieces gave Cyan time to think, and to relax after a stressful day of defending his home. His wife claimed they were hers to anyone who saw them, and Cyan was fine with that. This was not something to be paraded about in public. But just this once, he had brought one of his creations home from his workshop, as a gift for his precious wife.

Elaine couldn't help herself, and kissed her husband deeply. Owain was in the room and cried out, "I saw that Mama!" as Cyan turned a deep crimson at the breaking of proper manners. But he did not pull away or chide her. This may be the last time they embrace like this for a long time.

"I'm glad you're back, honey. It has been so quiet here without you. Thank you for the flowers. They're your most dazzling yet!"

Cyan turned his head and shut the door, making sure no one outside saw what he had just done.

"I missed you, Papa!"

Cyan reached down and grabbed his son up into his powerful arms, letting the little warrior hug him just this once. Now was perhaps the proper time to put decorum aside and swallow his pride. Just this once.

Cyan looked at his perfect wife and perfect son, and inside his heart broke at the uncertain future ahead of them. It tore him apart as he said it, but he told them about the plan to evacuate the castle, and that he would remain behind to protect the kingdom at all costs.

"Absolutely not," Elaine said in no uncertain terms. "We will stay here by your side. Our strength is your strength. Let the Empire do their worst, we're all Garamondes in this house, and I will stand by your side, always."

"I'll fight too!" Owain added, as innocently as ever. War was still just a game to him, but he had his father's spirit, no doubt about that.

"Owain, Elaine..." Cyan said, breaking up as his wife and son embraced him together. "I do not know what the future holds for us, but know that I love you both more than I can ever say. If it is your wish to stay by my side, then so be it. My sword will sing for as all, and I will fight all the harder knowing you are with me."

The three clung together in quiet solidarity for a long time, not knowing what tomorrow would bring. Outside the sturdy walls of Doma, the engine of war edged closer every day, threatening to break down the world Cyan had spent his entire life creating and protecting. This house and these souls within it were Cyan's life, his love, and his pride. He could not lose this time. He must not lose.

_Let the Empire come. There is no running this time. I am ready for whatever devilish schemes and weapons they unleash. They will learn to fear this blade and the Warrior that wields it. On my honor, they will tremble at the name Cyan Garamonde!_


	9. Celes

**~Celes~**

"Get out of Miranda, you monster!"

Celes awoke with the crash of shattering glass. A rock had been thrown through the window of the inn she had commandeered for her stay here in this hate-filled town. The cruel lump rolled harmlessly to the foot of the expansive bed its Imperial target slept in. With delicate fingers, the startlingly young general plucked the stone off the floor, turning it over in her pale hands. With sadness she placed it in a drawer alongside the other tokens of appreciation her admirers had sent her since she came to this town a month ago, bringing blood and fire with her.

Another wonderful day in the blackened city, it would seem. But Celes had no one to blame but herself for the situation she found herself in. Her bare feet walked across the wooden floor as she rose from her bed, gathering soot and ash as she moved. No attempt was made to clean this building after the fires, and Celes made no attempt to wash the black reminders of her actions from her body now. She dressed herself half-heartedly, caring less and less each day how she looked. If her soldiers noticed, they obediently said nothing.

"Get away from there, you piece of trash!"

Celes winced as she heard another familiar sound, fists on flesh, outside her broken window. The sound of harsh military might against the frustrated body of the down-trodden civilian. What sound did she despise the most? The hate-filled cries of the oppressed, or the hate-filled cries of the oppressors?

_I hate this war. I hate this new Miranda I have created. I hate the Empire!_

Celes put her hand to her mouth in shock, as if she had actually spoken her traitorous thoughts aloud. More and more these days, ideas and fantasies of leaving the war behind and denouncing the Emperor rose up in her mind, unbidden. It was all she could do not to strike the soldiers that saluted her as she left her private quarters. Could they not see the hell they had brought to this place? Were there even human beings at all underneath those helmets?

_Enough wallowing. I am still a General of the Empire, a warrior. As much as I loathe what has become of my Empire, I must fulfill my duties. General Leo...how do you do it? How do keep your honor in such a meaningless war?_

"Good morning, General Celes!" One of the soldiers guarding the inn greeted his commanding officer with a care-free salute as she passed. The gluttonous glow of the victor still hung on him, sickening Celes.

"There is nothing good left in this place," Celes said, sharper than she intended. She could see the soldier wilt slightly at her unexpected tone. It was gratifying.

Celes's mood only darkened when she emerged onto what was left of the streets of Miranda. Smoke rose lazily from various charred heaps that might have once been buildings, shops, homes, people. Fire still raged at the corners of the city, threatening to flare up and engulf the defeated realm a second time if this heat wave continued.

_What a dreadful mess._

She had done this. By her orders, the stubbornly resistant town of Miranda had been torched. It had nearly been burned to its foundations in the ensuing madness as soldiers filled with bloodlust tossed fireballs long after she had given the orders to cease their attack. The soldiers who had defied her orders to stop had been court-marshaled on the spot, and the town had been saved from total destruction. But the damage had been done, to the homes as well as the hearts of Miranda.

As an elite Magitek Knight with the power to control ice, Celes had done her best to stay the fires and control the chaos. She used every last ounce of her magical energy to cool the flames of war, but the townsfolk didn't see that. They didn't want to see it. All they saw was the war-monger General of Fire. Would the young, fair-skinned woman who had once been called the General of Snow because of her peaceful temperament and gentle appearance now forever be known as the great destroyer of Miranda, the General of Fire?

_No! I must atone for this. I will not go down in history as a fiend who reveled in destruction. I will not be lumped into the same category as that so-called General Kefka! _

Miranda was all quiet as Celes walked carefully through the streets. No one spoke to her, everyone glared at her. As long as her troops roamed the town, no one would raise a hand or a voice to her directly. But she knew their thoughts well enough. They were her own thoughts, after all.

_Monster. Demon. Murderer. Destroyer._

Yes, she felt like all of those things as she picked her way through the rubble and averted her eyes from the painful stares of the people. She would right an overturned crate here, silently cool a persistent ember there. Little things. Nobody noticed, nobody wanted to notice. She was the face of the Empire, the Enemy. She could do no good here.

_How much longer? How much more of this can I take? I must get away from here, from the Empire, and soon, or else..._

Despair rose up from her breast and threatened to choke her. She was forced to stop in the middle of the nearly empty main street and catch her breath. A soldier that had been trudging along behind her stopped and asked if she need assistance.

"Get away from me!" she spat, quite unexpectedly. The venom in her voice surprised them both, and the soldier backed away as politely as he could. None of the civilians paid any mind to her outburst. Just another monster growling. Ignore it.

_I must not let this negative energy consume me. I am not a monster...but the longer I stay here, the longer Gestahl forces me to do heinous acts like this, the closer I become to a heartless killer, a mere tool of war. Just what the magnificent Emperor Gestahl wants, I suppose._

"Gestahl, what do you want from me?" Celes murmured as she recovered her bearings. She had reached the red-rimmed edge of the town, where a thick phalanx of soldiers, Magitek Armor, and other assorted Imperial forces kept strict watch over any and all comings and goings. Several soldiers ran up to her to give their morning reports, and ask for her decision on a thousand unimportant trivialities. It was such a disgraceful bore, but she must continue, just as she had for as far back as she could remember.

_Why was I brought into this world? Was it only to serve the Empire? Surely there must be more to life than this. Where are all the other things Cid spoke of as he would put me to sleep each night? Where were the things called "love" and "family" and "hope" that he told her were so important?_

Celes had not led a normal life, she knew that. She had been groomed almost since birth to be the finest warrior the Empire could produce. Yes, "produce" was the right word for her upbringing. If it wasn't for Cid, she would never have known what it was to be human at all. Despite being an Imperial scientist, and the very one responsible for giving her the strange power of "magic", it was the warm-hearted Cid that had taught Celes about life.

She had still led a sheltered, battle-filled life thanks to Gestahl and his constant speeches about the necessity of war to bring about true peace, and how Celes was a vital part of his plans. He never let her out of the capital city of Vector, never let her really see what this "peaceful war" of his was really about. The crafty old Emperor wanted to make sure his special project was properly indoctrinated before he unleashed her onto the world.

The Emperor had since decreed it was time to show the world the power of Magitek, and so Celes was sent forth, as a herald to the new age of Gestahl. But it was thanks to Cid that she could see the true nature of the acts she was committing in the name of "peace". With each successive battle across the continent, she saw more and more how she was being used, and lied to.

And now, Miranda. She had become the perfect weapon Gestahl had designed her to be. She had become what Cid had taught her to hate most.

_No more. I will not be remembered for this. I will not give up on my humanity just yet._

"General, sir!" Another soldier. Would the precession of pointless obligations never end?

Celes tried her best to behave while she suffered through the endless stream of problems the soldiers brought her. She had almost made a complete circuit of the town now, and had seen nothing to give her that thing called "hope". Miranda was in ruins, and as long she stayed here, it would remain in ruins. She was a blight on these innocent people.

_Just a little longer. Maybe tomorrow I'll make my move and quit this war. _

Celes sighed. She said this almost every day now.

_Maybe not. Why am I so weak? I hate this life I've been forced to lead!_

It was hard to just abandon something that has consumed a person's life since birth. All Celes knew was how to be a soldier of the Empire. If she quit now, what would she be? Was there anything beneath the mantle of "General" for her? She didn't know, and it was this uncertainty that kept her locked into a life she despised. The question now was, how much more could she bear before she finally snapped?. Would she be like Kefka, then? Twisted and heartless, but a perfect killing machine nonetheless. Exactly what the Emperor wanted.

She shuddered at the thought of becoming the next Kefka, and the current soldier with his petty problems stopped his litany of woes and looked at her curiously.

"Are you cold, sir?"

"Never mind." Celes said tiredly. "Just get on with your report. I want to get back to my quarters in time for lunch." But she wasn't hungry.

By the time Celes had managed to disentangle herself from her soldiers and return to the husk of an inn she called home, it was well past lunchtime. She forced down an insignificant bowl of soup, no better than what the citizens ate, and went back outside. The fat, shining sun overhead added its pitiless heat to the already parched landscape, promising even worse conditions to Miranda for the day.

The dry air caused some of the lingering flames to flare up outside her quarters, and Celes quickly dispatched them with a frigid flick of her fingers. She watched the townsfolk's eyes grow wide at her display of magic. They were wide with fear, with suspicion. Would she use those powers on them next?

She tried to smile at them, but not one returned her smile. She could see on their lean faces that they were starving for water. Much of the town's water supply had been used to douse the flames, and reports of attacks on the Imperial water tanks were growing with each oppressively hot day. Perhaps she could do something after all. As she looked into those angry, parched eyes, she saw the faint glimmer of her own salvation.

With as much confidence as she could fake, Celes strolled over to an empty water basin and conjured a large block of sparkling ice in it. In a few minutes that ice would melt into water, precious life-giving water. It wasn't much, but perhaps she could do more.

_This is all I can do for you. Be patient, and maybe I can come back someday and do more, not as a General, but as a fellow human being._

The people said nothing, their accusing eyes shifting from the ice to its creator, wondering what it all meant. Celes didn't think they would even approach her gift until she was out of sight. Perhaps they would just tip it over into the street in defiance. She didn't think so. These people were too thirsty for that. They would drink her water, and hate her for it.

Quietly, she left the scene she had created, and tried to find something else meaningful to occupy the remaining hours of this dreary day with. Soon, something found her.

"General Celes! Come quick, there is an emergency at Water Tank 3!" Yet another soldier, but this time with a real problem. Celes could already see where this was going. She had waited too long to start being a good samaritan, and a riot surely had broken out over the water.

But it was far worse than that. The clashes of fighting could be heard, and Celes was prepared for that. What she could not have expected was the completely uncalled-for use of Magitek Armor against the defenseless rioters. Celes watched in horror as multi-colored beams of magical energy obliterated Mirandans one by one. It was beautiful, and disgustingly ugly. It was war, and the disillusioned general had had enough.

"Cease fire! Cease fire, you fools!" Celes yelled with all the strength her small frame could muster.

The general knew how to command with her voice, had been drilled in it for years, but she was finding that a soldier mad with power could not be controlled by mere words. The hand-to-hand combatants stopped at the sound of her voice, but the operator of the Magitek Armor continued his crazed massacre. Beams of red, gold, and blue shot outwards, instantly annihilating their targets with mechanical accuracy. Sadly, Celes had seen this happen before. Some soldiers just could not be trusted with the enormous power of Magitek. There was nothing to be done but fight magic with magic.

"Soldier in the Armor, I command you to cease fire! Do you hear me!" Celes tried again, knowing it was futile. The man wildly fired more blasts from his hulking armored suit, blind to all but the crimson haze in front of him.

Celes had seen enough. She raised her sword high in the air, and closed her eyes, feeling the flow of magical energy around her. Almost instantly, the Magitek Armor stopped functioning, its magic firing device clicking harmlessly. Celes glowed with the same colors as the beams of magic, channeling their deadly power into herself. This was her unique gift, the reason the Empire had sought her out as an infant, the reason she had been chosen for the experiment that had cost her any chance of a normal life. This was the power and the curse of Runic.

Celes had always been in tune with the flow of energy around her, ever since birth. This odd ability to detect and direct the innate power that flowed through the world had brought her to the attention of the Empire's scouts, and she had swiftly been brought to the newly constructed Magitek Research Facility, where she would remain for the rest of her childhood.

With this unique power of hers to control energy flows, it was quickly discovered she could benefit from the magical infusion process like no other. She would not be a failure like Kefka, warped by more magical energy than he could control. She would be able to control it, use it like no one before her. And thus, her ability to control energy was applied to the newly discovered energy of Magitek, and Runic was born. Celes barely remembered the process, but she felt in her soul that the innocent baby that had been brought to the Facility had died that day.

Celes did not like to use her power, especially against her own men, but as she watched the rage-contorted face of the man inside the now dead Magitek Armor, she knew it was the only thing to do.

The mad pilot of the Armor struggled with his unresponsive controls for a few more moments before he was forcefully dragged from the vehicle by the surviving rioters. Celes made no attempt to stop them, and ordered her own troops not to interfere, either.

The mob's justice was swift and brutal, but effective. The once-mad soldier was now torn apart by the now-mad victims of his own senseless brutality. Celes did not like the sight, but she felt it was necessary, both for the townsfolk and her own troops.

_Let them have this moment of freedom. Let the Empire see it cannot keep pushing and pushing, and expect nothing to ever change. People can only take so much abuse. I am no different. How many more scenes such as this must I bear witness to before I have had enough, as well?_

"Pull out!" Celes shouted after the grisly battle was over. "Leave this tank for the people."

"What? But, sir..."

"Silence! We have enough water, and I can supply whatever extra we may need myself. Now pull out! That's an order!"

"Y-yes, sir!" At least these soldiers knew how to obey. They scrambled to collect the wounded and fled back to their posts, leaving Celes alone with the sorely mistreated civilians.

The coveted water tank had sprung a leak during the fighting, and was losing gallons of its precious cargo every minute. The people scrambled to gather as much of it as they could, but were losing ground to the intense heat of the sun, now just beginning to set, but still full of fury.

Slowly, softly, Celes stepped towards the crowd. She wasn't sure what to say, if anything should be said at all. She had to say something, though. This was her moment to redeem herself. At least a little.

"I am sorry for my soldiers' actions. Please-" Celes started, but the crowd turned their backs on her one and all, and Celes could hear threats and curses from over their shoulders. They continued to try and save the dwindling water, ignoring her presence completely. It was a clear signal that she was not wanted.

_Am I too late? Is there no hope of redemption for me now?_

Celes turned away from the crowd in despair, biting her lip in frustration.

_No. No!_

She stopped. She turned around and faced the crowd again. Without a word, she raised her hand and sent a wave of freezing energy at the water tank, turning the spraying fountain of leaking water into a solid plug of ice. She added a little extra magical power to the spell, ensuring that the ice would not melt quickly. Whatever water was left in the tank was safe now.

_That is all I can do for you. Maybe tomorrow I can do more._

No one in the crowd thanked her. No one even looked at her directly. They busily gathered all the water they could from the stoppered tank, then left silently and sullenly. Too many had died for this water for anyone to celebrate.

Celes watched them go until she was left alone with the empty tank, the dead bodies, and the powerless Magitek Armor, now driverless and stained with blood. The sun was slowly setting over her head, and she had never felt more alone in her life.

_Is this to be the way I'll spend the rest of my days? Surrounded by nothing but death and war? Even if I quit the Empire, I will still be alone. Only Cid ever showed me real kindness, but he was only allowed just enough to let me know I wanted more of it. If this is all that is left for me, whether I stay here or flee, then I might as well just end it all. No one would miss me._

"Thank you, miss."

Celes was startled out of her spiral of anguish by a cracked old voice behind her. She whirled around and came face to face with an old man hunched over a cane, his shockingly white hair blowing in the warm evening breeze. Who...?

"I saw what you did there, and I've seen you do similar things elsewhere. The rest of the town wants nothing more than to see you hung from a pike, but I can see the pain in your eyes. You're suffering here more than any of us."

Celes tried to hide from his words, and put on as strong a front as she could in this vulnerable state he had found her in. "I don't know what you're talking about. I am a General of the Empire. War is my life."

The old man laughed, further shaking Celes's resolve. "Hah, you try to act tough, like nothing phases you, but I see right through you, my dear! Come now, you're human, just like the rest of us."

"Human, me?" Celes stumbled, her guard shattered by this simple man.

"Look at you, barely twenty years old, and already hurt so much," the old man said with such kindness it made Celes want to cry. But that was impossible. Soldiers couldn't cry.

"Why are you saying all this to the enemy. Am I not the General of Fire?" Celes said carefully, trying to control her emotions.

"I don't see any fire around here at the moment, now do I?" The old man stated matter-of-factly.

"I..." Celes found herself undone.

"You know, I lost my son in the firebombing." The old man said this without rancor. Just another fact.

Celes said nothing, could say nothing.

"And I lost my granddaughter to the Empire sixteen years ago. She would be about your age now, I guess. She just vanished one day. I got a report back from someone I had never met saying she had fallen off a cliff and drowned."

_Why is he saying all this? Is he playing me for some weak woman? Does he want me to fall at his feet and admit my guilt?_

"You look a lot like my daughter, you know."

"What do you want from me, old man?" Celes was becoming extremely uncomfortable now.

"Oh, nothing." The man said pleasantly. "Just prattling on. It's a bad habit of mine."

"I...I have to go."

"Sure, sure," the curious man said without a care. But his face suddenly turned serious, and the look in his eyes was intense. "But I want you to know you're not alone. There are people here who see the real you, the one you try to hide from the world. We will continue to think of you as the General of Snow, miss Chere. You just keep on doing what you believe in, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

Celes blushed and turned her head fiercely away from the persistent old man. It was like he could read her thoughts.

"I will."

She smiled. She couldn't help it, the man stirred up strange emotions in her she had thought lost. Before he could say another word, she laughed and walked away as proudly as she could. But inside, she was exhausted, nervous...and happy. It had been a long day, but she had done good. Maybe tomorrow she could do more.

_I don't know who you are, old man, but thank you. You gave me exactly what I needed. I'm through with this stupid war. Tomorrow, definitely._

As night rolled over the city and brought its brief, cooling respite, Celes wandered the dark streets unhindered. Hidden eyes watched her go, some full of hate, but some full of admiration. She had not been as forsaken as she thought by these people. When she slept this night, she would dream of freedom and peace, and strangely, of the family she had never known, and the love she had been deprived of all these cold years. Tomorrow would be the first day of the rest of her life.

Back at the scene of Celes's rebirth, the old man walked quietly around the scarred earth. He carefully and solemnly buried each of the bodies that still lay there, whether they were soldiers or citizens. Even the remains of the mad pilot were treated with equal respect. We are all human, after all.

As he looked up into the star-filled sky, the old man was reminded once again of the starving eyes of the General of Snow. You could never forget eyes like those.

"I'm proud of you, Celes."


	10. Edgar

**~Edgar~**

"Time to wake, Sire."

Edgar rubbed his eyes. Was it morning already? He looked out his window at the dark blue sands outside, then back at the woman who was patiently waiting for him to rise. It was still pre-dawn twilight out, the sun just beginning to rise, and he had only slept four hours. A king's life was not a life of leisure. But, there were perks, even out here in the deserts of Figaro.

"Good morning, my beautiful desert rose." Edgar said as casually as if he were talking about the weather.

The woman laughed unfazed, well used to her young king's flirtations. "Oh Sire, enough of that. Please, the Chancellor is waiting."

Edgar grimaced. "The Chancellor is always waiting, my lady." He continued taking his time, admiring himself in the mirror as he braided his long blonde hair in a single royal lock. While he prepared himself, the woman patiently waited, various papers in hand. Edgar would glance at her reflection in the mirror and wink every once in a while, just to let her know she wasn't forgotten. She smiled politely.

_Let them wait. I am a king, but I am a still a man, too. It seems with every passing day I spend less time with the ladies and more time with the Chancellor. I'm turning into a regular old politician before my very eyes!_

Edgar tied a pair of blue ribbons into his ponytail and smiled. These were his father's ribbons, hand-made by his mother on their wedding day. The long, golden hair of the Figaro family line was a hallmark of the kingdom's rulers, as were the traditional blue ribbons to complement the blue Figaro eyes. The former Queen had made these, and Edgar wondered if there would ever be a new Queen to make his own set of ribbons.

_Time for that later! I've got plenty of time to settle down, but precious little time to live it up!_

Without warning, Edgar spun around and reached out to the woman in waiting. He deftly put his arm around the shocked woman's waist and pulled her towards the mirror stand. Laughing, he spun her around like a dancer and let her go. The papers fluttered to the ground and the woman bent down quickly to pick them up, blushing.

"Sire!" It was all the woman could do to keep her cool while the king fooled around. Such a wild stallion! He needed a firm hand to keep him in check, a wife to cool him off. Oho, but certainly not her!

"Alright, alright," Edgar said good-naturedly. "I guess I am ready for the day's morning conference. Tell the Chancellor I'll be there in a moment, Elisa."

So he did know her name, she thought sarcastically. Sometimes she wondered if he was on a first-name basis with every woman in the castle. But that was her king, a real lady's man. She supposed there were far worse traits that a king could possess, and luckily, Edgar was a fine king for all the womanizing he did on the side.

As Edgar took the papers from Elisa's hands, he slipped a paper of his own into her pocket. Bowing, he took his leave silently and graciously. After he had left, Elisa looked at the paper, and smiled as she read the quick scrawl in Edgar's flowery hand.

"Shall we have tea later? I will be free for lunch, meet me at the west tower."

_Oh King Edgar, will you never grow up?_

_I hope I never grow old and boring, like the Chancellor. _Edgar thought as he shook hands with the dusty old man. The desert seemed to flow in the Chancellor's veins.

"King Edgar, how nice of you to join us this morning. I hope you have ready this week's reports?" The Chancellor's voice was dry and sharp, but his eyes twinkled with vitality and kindness. He poked fun at his king's youthfulness, but he knew he could trust the kingdom in his hands. The noble blood of the Figaros ran deep in King Edgar, just as it had in King Stewart. And Prince Sabin, wherever he was...

"Of course. There's nothing here I wasn't already aware of, though. More bad news coming from the Empire." Edgar tried his best to be good-natured, but it was too early in the day to talk of war. Unfortunately, there was talk of little else these days.

The Chancellor narrowed his eyes at Edgar. "Ah yes...your Returner spies I assume?" He did not trust the shady characters that occasionally visited the castle unannounced and in brigand's rags, all under the protection of the King. Why, just five days ago, one of them had let a known criminal and wolfkin into the castle! What was next, a moogle? Soon their jail would look more like a zoo!

"My friends in the Returners are as trustworthy as any of these flimsy, watered-down reports. There isn't even any mention of the possible traitor in South Figaro in here." Edgar tried to be fair, but he was on edge seeing the reports. When Locke told him something top secret, he could be sure it was still safe from the Empire's own network of spies. When he read it in a report, he knew that it was already common knowledge to those in the upper echelons of the Empire. The reports were typically four days old, and filled with information Locke had told him already, but seeing Locke's words on paper only made Edgar even more aware of how precarious his kingdom's situation was.

_"__Report 265.4 - Regarding the movement of troops north of Tzen on southern continent over the past month. 50% increase in M-Tek Armor, 70% increase in ground troops. General Celes sighted briefly before heading for Miranda. General Kefka sighted briefly before returning to Vector. Signs of preparation for movement on South Figaro imminent. Fortification of eastern wall advised."_

_'Repot 265.5 - Regarding Imperial assault on Miranda last month. Town torched by General Celes due to continued resistance. Heavy casualties reported. No signs of Imperial occupation lessening in immediate future. With the fall of Miranda, entire southern continent now under control of Empire. Now entering critical phase of Gestahlian War. Expansion into world war inevitable. Movement of Figaro Castle beyond western mountains and out of current Imperial range strongly advised."_

_"Report 265.7 - Regarding the movement of troops east of Doma over the past month. 100% increase in M-Tek Armor, 25% increase in troops. New flying armor, codename "Telstar", being delivered via Blackjack along with regular supplies at time of writing. Battle capabilities still unknown. Several crates of volatile material delivered along with weaponry, contents unknown. Possibly biological. General Leo still in command of battalion, and appears to be waiting the Domans out with a drawn out siege. Prediction: Under current Imperial strategy, Doma will fall within six months. Emperor seems displeased with timeframe, lending weight to rumors of command change. No action advised. Alliance with Doma determined as too risky."_

_"Report 265.9 - Regarding rumors of secret mission to Narshe. Empire seems interested in northern coal mining town, reasons unknown. Possible connection with Magitek research and rarely sighted female M-tek rider, previously given codename "Green". Still no information on identity of Green. Possible new General, based on observed battle capabilities. As Narshe persists in remaining neutral, no action is advised. Will continue to watch Vector for new developments in this area in the coming days."_

"Disgraceful." Edgar saw nothing but bad news in the current batch of reports. He had tried to avoid war by forming an alliance with the Empire, but it seemed his new allies had no sense of honor.

The Chancellor nodded in agreement. "I think this farce of an alliance will be coming to an end soon. How much longer do you plan on letting them think we're on their side?"

"As long as we can. Every day we spend in peace is a precious gift, not to be wasted." Edgar reflected on the past for a moment, then added, "We will not be the ones to break the alliance, no matter what."

"Taking your father's words to heart, I see. A wise choice."

_My father knew the price of peace, and he paid it with full knowledge. Sabin might have gone to war as soon as Father had died, and how many more lives would have been lost then? We had no idea what the Empire had created. No idea something like Magitek existed ten years ago. Ah, Sabin, your heart was in the right place, but sometimes you have to wait and see what your enemy is capable of before you strike. Albrook learned that the hard way, and look how fast they were overpowered. The first domino to fall..._

"My father was a wise man, Chancellor. I only hope I can live up to his legacy."

"In time, my young King. I am afraid you face a far more turbulent time than your father did, though." The Chancellor's face darkened as he spoke. "King Stewart was a man of peace and had a peaceful reign, but we need a man of war in these troubling times. Remember, we're dealing with fiends who would stoop to any tactic to win this war."

Edgar knew full well what the Empire was like. How could he forget? The sickly, unnatural pallor of his father's dying face haunted him to this day. They had poisoned his father, and made countless attempts on his own life over the past ten years since his father's death. Thanks to Locke and Banon, all of them had failed. And thanks to Locke, Edgar now had a very interesting prisoner to interrogate this evening.

Edgar sped the meeting along to its conclusion as best he could, reviewing all the reports, and adding the vital information Locke had brought to the table. The traitor in South Figaro would have to be found, and Lone Wolf might know who it is. No obvious movements of troops would be made in South Figaro just yet, to keep the Empire off their backs. Figaro Castle would remain at its current location, as such an overt movement would be seen as an act of war. The situation in Doma would be watched carefully, in hopes that Figaro could learn from the Empire's tactics on that front. Lastly, spies in Vector would watch for any new sightings of Green, but who was this mysterious new arrival in the war?

This "imperial witch", as the rumors sometimes called her, must be part of the coming strategy, and Edgar must learn everything he could about her. Information on the subject was extremely scarce, and all that was known was she was a young girl, similar in age to General Celes, and with similar abilities. Rumors were flying about how she obliterated an entire squadron of Imperial troops in under a minute during a training exercise gone wrong. How many more like Green were waiting in the shadows of the Empire? Could Figaro really hope to stand up against an army of super warriors like her?

_Ah, Gestahl, of all the crimes you've committed, forcing beautiful young ladies to fight is by far the most shameful. _

After the meeting, Edgar made his way towards the west tower, thoughts of war put aside for a moment in favor of thoughts of pleasure. He looked out over the golden sands of the vast desert that surrounded and protected his castle, wondering how many more days he had left before even these brief respites came to an end. The forbidding desert had provided a natural barrier against the Empire's machinations, but that wouldn't last forever. He would savor every sip of tea with Elisa today.

When Edgar arrived, he found the woman already waiting at a quaint table with two chairs. Her mouth turned in a scowl when she saw Edgar ambling towards her with a wide smile.

"You're late, King."

My apologies, my desert rose!" Edgar said with mock horror. "The Chancellor has no sense of time, and the meeting ran late."

"Are you sure you weren't with another woman?" Elisa said half-jokingly. She knew the King routinely saw a dozen or more women just like this throughout the day. Although recently it seemed he was focusing more on his duties and spending far more time squirreled away with advisors and strange visitors. Was the situation with the Empire getting worse, as many feared?

"I assure you, my lady, that you are the only woman I shall lay eyes on this day," Edgar said with as much charm as he could put out.

_The sad thing, is that this is probably the truth. My carefree days of cavorting with half the woman of the castle before dinner are long gone, I'm afraid._

"Now then, how about some tea?" Edgar said, taking a seat and pulling out a bottle of thick, white liquid.

"Is that our tea?" Elisa was a little wary of the bottle in her King's hand. It looked like...

"Antlion's venom," Edgar said, casually confirming her suspicions. "Oh, I assure you, it is quite harmless when it's distilled and mixed with herbs," he added, seeing the look of disgust on his companion's lovely face. "This is a rare delicacy of the desert. I thought it would be appropriate for our date."

_The last one I'm likely to enjoy for quite some time._

"Oh, so this is a date now, is it?"

"Of course. Drink up. I think you'll find the flavor surprising."

She took a sip of the tea. It was smooth, and sweet like honey, with a bite of heat thanks to the venom.

"It is...delicious!" Elisa gasped, impressed.

The two enjoyed innocent banter for a while, talking of everything but war and being king.

Edgar sipped his tea and stared across the table at Elisa's eyes for a moment, taking in this simple joy of companionship. There was nothing like a quiet spot of tea with a beautiful woman under the yellow sun of the desert. But, it couldn't last all day. He had other tasks to carry out before that sun set.

With a look of exaggerated pain, Edgar wrapped up his date with Elisa, and excused himself to his duties.

"A king never stops being a king, unfortunately." Edgar said with a smile he didn't feel, and made his way to his second date of the day. He was not looking forward to this next date nearly as much as the first.

With a heavy step Edgar made his way across the castle and towards the dungeon. There was no antlion tea waiting for this guest, although Edgar thought it would be amusing to bring along a slightly less distilled variety of the drink to help the conversation.

As Edgar entered the jail, he was greeted with a low snarl from one of the cells.

"Let me out of here, you tyrant!" The growling voice snapped from the farthest cell.

Inside the cell was a half-man, half-wolf creature, fangs bared, and clearly on edge about something.

"Ah, Lone Wolf, how are you finding your accommodations?" Edgar said pleasantly. He could see this feral wolfkin was agitated, and practically climbing the walls in a nervous panic.

Lone Wolf ran up to the door and stuck his long snout through the bars with a snap of his jaws. "Let me out, or you'll regret it!"

"Oh? I think I would regret it much more if you were free to spread your lies and rumors all over the countryside, my friend."

"You mean about your alliance with the Returners?" The wolf barked in feigned laughter. "If you think the Empire doesn't already know about that, you're a bigger fool than I thought."

"And I suppose you had nothing to do with the spreading of that information, hmm?"

"Hmph. It doesn't matter now. Don't you understand? They're coming here! They're going to attack! If you set me free, I can try to stall them with misinformation." Lone Wolf licked his lips slyly, hoping Edgar would take the bait.

He didn't.

"No chance. You've been a thorn in my kingdom's side for years, and I intend to keep you right where I can see you. Don't you worry about what the Empire may do. This castle has a few tricks in store for any would-be attackers. Now, perhaps if you could shed some light on the rumors of a traitor in South Figaro, I may see if I could ease your conditions a bit. Maybe a little more fresh meat with your meals?"

The predator tried to hide the look of stark hunger in his eyes at the mention of real food, but his own bestial side betrayed him. The thought of meat set him drooling, and he shouted in anger, "Damn you, Edgar! Figaro will burn because of your inaction, and I don't intend to be here when it does!"

"If you give me what I want, then perhaps you can save your own hide as well as mine. What do you say, old friend?"

"Never. Even if I knew who the traitor was, I wouldn't tell you. I'll get out of here myself, and I'll watch happily as your precious castle is destroyed. It's shameful that you would trust that low-born thief Locke over me. He should be in a cell right next to me!"

Edgar had heard enough. This was going nowhere, and he was getting angry at the wolf's persistent bad attitude.

"That's treasure hunter," Edgar said in disgust, and turned away from his prisoner before he did something rash.

_You're lucky I'm not Sabin, Lone Wolf. If he were king, you would be a bloody pulp right now. Ah, brother, what has become of you? I've tried giving you the space you wanted, but I feel like I should be doing more for you. Locke tells me you're still alive and well, but nothing more. If there was ever a time our kingdom needed your honest courage, it is now. The time of hiding behind politics and alliances is crumbling around me, and I need a strong hand by my side to lead Figaro into war. Sometimes I wish I had never used that coin. If it truly was a matter of chance, then maybe I wouldn't feel so guilty about our fates._

Another day was quickly passing Edgar by, and he felt like he done nothing. Lone Wolf might be right. He should be gathering his army, his navy, every last man should be arming themselves for the inevitable fight. But he must keep up appearances! To make the first move would only make the Empire strike back all the harder. Let them come when they will, and he will use every trick he can to prevent bloodshed. For now, let the people of Figaro enjoy this false peace. To them, at least, it was real.

Lost in thought, Edgar nearly ran into the elderly Matron of the castle on his way back to his private quarters.

"Excuse me, Sire!" She wheezed as she moved out of the way.

"No, excuse me, Matron. Today has been a long day." Edgar said humbly. Matron Francesca was the oldest woman in the castle, and was like a grandmother to the young King.

"I see you're troubled, my young King." Francesca said with a piercing gaze. She was old, but she was not blind. "These are difficult times, but I know you will pull us through safely. You are just like the old King in that regard. You both care deeply about the people. With your machines and wits, I am sure we can win."

"Matron, I fear this time it may not be enough. The Empire is coming, and we are no match for their weapons. Even with all my mechanical knowledge and all the lore of our scholars, we still have no idea how the Empire is doing what it's doing. It just seems like magic, the way they've advanced across the world."

"Perhaps the most obvious answer is the correct one, my King," Francesca said simply. "Remember your father's credo."

"Peace is the greatest weapon of all," Edgar cited from memory before Francesca could finish.

"Remember that, and you will win in the end. As long as you fight for peace, and not blind ambition, you will have the edge."

"I wish I could believe that, Matron," Edgar said sadly.

"King Stewart believed it, even as he lay dying. I know you'll do the right thing, when the time comes."

"I will try. Good night, Matron." Edgar bowed and continued towards his quarters, the weight of the world hanging on his shoulders. He knew Figaro was the last real power left in the world to oppose the Empire's onslaught. A straight war would end in disaster, but perhaps he could stall them long enough to find a weakness, some tiny defect in the war machine that would give him and the Returners the advantage. They needed a miracle, and he knew it. All he could do now was wait. Wait for that last ray of hope to appear over the horizon.

Alone in his room, Edgar put his hands on his head as he sat down at his private workbench. He usually ended each day tinkering with whatever current tool he was working on. Automatic crossbows, high-powered drills, blindingly brigt flash bulbs, even sonic weapons. Edgar's keen mind and talented hands were capable of crafting almost anything he could think of. But compared to what the Empire was creating, Edgar felt like a child. There had to be something he could do...some way to balance the seemingly insurmountable scales.

As he aimlessly sifted through the pile of odds and ends in front of him, a stubborn image of a city nestled in between a snowy valley kept intruding into his thoughts, its lights twinkling in the distance like a beacon. Was that his ray of hope? Was that the tipping point? Could the answer to this war lay in that quiet town?

_What does the Empire want with Narshe? I must find out. Something tells me that is the key to unlocking this war. And Locke is the perfect person to find that key. When I see him tomorrow, we will discuss our own secret mission to Narshe..._

As Edgar disappeared into his lonesome quarters for the evening, Matron Francesca watched him go. She knew the burden he carried, but was confident he would lead them all to victory in the end. The young King had a mind for tactics, and could maneuver his way out of any problem. If peace had any hope at all of thriving, it was in no better hands than the well-loved King of Figaro.

Praying silently, Matron whispered to whatever powers there were, "We believe in you. Never give up on your ideals. Never give up on peace. Never give up hope. I will pray for you and for our kingdom, Edgar."


	11. Gogo

**~Gogo~**

"You're a master of what?" A weak voice, almost a whisper. The sun hasn't risen over the town of Mobliz yet, and all is dark in the small house.

"Simulacrum." Another voice, muffled and oddly toned. Gender, age, accent? Impossible to tell.

"And just what the hell is that?" The whisper tries to rise to a yell, but can't.

"Mimicry, if you will." Definite note of boredom.

_The same questions all the time, _the owner of the impossible voice thinks to itself.

"So you're a mime?" Whisperer curious.

"If that's what you want to call me, yes." Impossible voice bored. This is going to be too easy, but it's for a good cause.

"And you really think you can get these troops off my back?"

Now onto the meat of the mysterious voice's offer.

"No."

"But..."

"The troops will stay on your back. The only difference is that I will be you. Your back will be my back. Understand?"

"Uh..."

The impossible voice is impatient. The lights flick on in the small room and a strange sight presents itself. There are two young men in the room, identical down to the last freckle. One is gravely wounded and in bed, the other is standing at the foot of the bed, next to the lamp.

"Understand now?" This is the voice of the standing version of the young man.

"Amazing!" The exact same voice comes from the bed-ridden man, but weaker.

"This is the plan. You will stay here in Mobliz until you're healed. I will let myself be captured as you, getting the Empire off your trail for good."

"But what about you? You can see what the Empire did to me for defecting...they'll just finish the job they started when they get a hold of you...er, me, again."

"Don't worry about me. I've been in far worse situations than this. You're from Miranda, correct?"

The bed-ridden man is surprised that this person knows where he's from. Just how much does he know?

"I was, before the Empire drafted me and shipped me to Doma."

"And you're girlfriend is a woman named Lola?"

"How...?"

"It's my job to know who I'm impersonating. Don't worry about it. I'm you, remember?"

The fake youth gives a flip of his hair in exactly the same way the real youth tends to. It's quite unnerving.

"Don't get any ideas about Lola!"

The fake youth laughs. It's exactly the same way the real youth laughs, but has a strange tone to it all the same. Something uncanny behind the confident smile.

"Of that, my young man, you need not worry yourself. I do not plan on traveling all the way to Miranda today."

"She'd know you're a fake right off the bat, anyways. Nobody knows me better than her. We'd be married right now if the Empire hadn't come..."

_This is taking too long. The troops are near, and I need to be in the right place at the right time. This is the essence of simulacrum._

"Enough. If you want to live, be quiet and stay in bed for the rest of the day. I will leave, pretending to be you."

"I couldn't leave this bed even if I wanted to. Go on, and good luck."

"A good actor does not rely on luck. If I need to improvise, then I will. Now rest."

The fake youth turns to leave, but the original raises his withered hand to stop him.

"Please, before you go...do you think you could write a letter for me? It will only take a second, and I can have it delivered myself later."

"Very well. Seeing as I'm you now, I guess I can write your letter, too."

A few moments later, the youth leaves the house, a perfect picture of health and confidence, just like the original. He had come to this town after hearing rumors of a strange child on the Veldt. It was said he could mimic the abilities of the many beasts that migrated across these plains with perfect accuracy. The child had been a fickle thing, and refused to show himself.

_To see another master of my art would have been a true delight. Perhaps this wild child is just a myth. Then again, some people call me a myth, too._

The youth walks down the center of the small town of Mobliz, making no attempt to hide himself as he thinks about his missed chance at seeing the wild child. As he is swaggering down the main road, he bumps into an oddly dressed old man.

_Definitely not from around here. What is he wearing, behemoth hide? Only one place people wear that. This could be a rare chance to see how far my talents can go._

"Excuse me, I didn't see you there," the youth says happily. "Long way from Thamasa, eh, old man?"

The old man's bushy eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He wasn't supposed to be recognized!

The youth nods and winks. "No worries. I can keep a secret. Tell me, how are things there? Care to show me a magic trick while you're here?"

Now the old man nearly falls over in shock. Who was this?

"I don't know what you're talking about."

The youth laughs loudly and nudges the old man. "Like I said, I can keep a secret. Now, how about a little magic, eh? No one's looking, and I want to test my skills."

The old man didn't have a clue what this loud young man was talking about, but he had to shut him up somehow.

"Fine, just a tiny one. You didn't see this, and I don't even want to know how you know."

The old man raises his hand furtively, and snaps his fingers. A small orb of fire swirls into existence above his open hand and hovers there. The hand shuts, and the fireball vanishes on command.

"Excellent!" The youth claps his hands eagerly, and then does something strange. He raises his hand just like the old man, and snaps his fingers in exactly the same way.

The old man thinks he's being made fun of, and starts to protest. "Now see here, you know you can't..."

But the old man never finishes his sentence. As impossible as it seems, hovering in front of him is an identical ball of flame to the one he just made. The strange youth closes his hand and the magical fireball vanishes, just like before. There is a wide grin on his face.

"Who are you?" The old man asks nervously. He knew everyone in Thamasa, and this man definitely wasn't a Thamasan.

"Just a traveler, like you. It's been a long time since I've seen this stuff. Magic, I mean. Thanks for the light." The youth talks casually, as if he had just lit a match, not conjured a magical ball of fire.

"But, what you just did...was it really true magic?" The old man is scared. Magic wasn't supposed to exist outside of Thamasa. Perhaps the rumors of what the Empire was doing were true, then? "That wasn't blue magic or pictomancy, was it? Do know Strago or Relm?"

"Never heard of 'em," the youth answers offhandedly. "Like I said, I'm just a traveler. Don't you worry about how I did that. Remember what I said about secrets? I'll keep yours if you keep mine. Okay?"

The old man tries to keep as calm as the youth, but he's quite flabbergasted. He just stands still for a moment, unsure of what to say or do.

The youth looks up and down at the old man, then clears the silence. "Look, I've gotta get going. Got some people to meet. If I were you, I'd change out of that behemoth suit. It's a dead giveaway that you're from Thamasa. This place sells magus hats and white capes. I suggest you put something else on before someone else pegs you. See ya!"

The youth gaily walks away from the old man with a wave of his hand and a smile on his face. Imagine running into a Thamasan here? Today was going to be a good day.

"Halt!"

Two soldiers appear in front of the youth, barring his leisurely stroll through the town. The youth had heard them arrive by airship shortly before leaving his house, and knew exactly why they were here.

_Right on time._

"Are you Jared of Miranda?"

"Why yes, I am."

"You're coming with us, traitor!"

The two soldiers study him for moment, confirming the description they have in their hands. Without any formality they grab the man named Jared and drag him away from town.

"So, where are we going?" Jared asks politely.

"We're taking you back to Vector, where you'll be hanged!"

"Ah, I see. That's no good."

The soldiers look at the strange youth curiously, then at each other. "Hey Biggs, what's up with this one?"

The soldier known as Biggs looks at Jared again, the same question on his mind. "Don't know, Wedge." He yanks the young man forward harshly, trying to impress upon him the situation he was now in. "You're going to die, you hear me? Aren't you a little worried?"

Jared grins and tries to shrug his shoulders as he's led towards the bluff where the giant airship sits and hums patiently. "We all have to die sometime. I'm resigned to my fate, I suppose."

Wedge shrugs his shoulders as well. "Crazy."

Biggs nods in agreement. Sometimes they snap like that when they know the game's up.

The two soldiers take Jared right underneath the airship's shadow. He can feel the warm breeze of its propellers on his face as he looks up at the massive blimp-like balloon attached to the actual airship.

_The Blackjack! Looks like I'll be leaving in style today. Haven't ridden this thing in ages. Should be fun! _

"What's going on here? This isn't a prison barge!"

An angry voice falls from the deck of the airship like a thunderbolt. It's the voice of the airship's silver-haired pilot, and he is not happy.

"Sorry, it's Kefka's orders. We're to transport this traitor back to Vector for sentencing."

The pilot curses, but waves his hand in disgust to let the three on board. Just another day in the service of his majesty the Emperor, he supposes.

Biggs, Wedge and Jared get on board quickly, just as the Blackjack is taking off. The pilot isn't waiting around for them to get comfortable, that's for sure.

Wedge barks at his captive. "You, get in that room over there, and don't even think of trying to escape. There's nowhere to go up here."

"Sure thing, boss."

Jared obediently strolls into one of the cabins, and watches as Wedge locks the door and walks away. Biggs stays behind to guard the door.

_I think I've seen enough to work with. These two will be easy._

Jared waits a for a little while, until Wedge is long gone and Biggs is alone. Then he knocks rudely on the door, shouting in a different voice than usual. It's deeper, and gruff. The voice of an angry soldier.

"Biggs, open this door, now! The prisoner's escaped!"

Biggs instantly recognizes his comrade's voice. But what is he doing on the other side of the door?

"Wedge? Is that you? What are you doing in there?"

"Let me out! That sneaky rat climbed out the porthole and up onto the deck. I spotted him and chased him back here."

Biggs doesn't understand what's going on, but that's definitely Wedge's voice. He opens the door and is greeted by Wedge himself, standing right where the prisoner had been standing when he had locked the door.

"Where'd he go?" Biggs asks, slightly confused at how things could have gone wrong on an airship.

"I don't know! He scampered off again before I could catch him." Wedge yells in frustration. "Let's split up and look for him. He can't get away while we're in the air."

"That crazy fool," Biggs sighs. This wasn't supposed to be a difficult assignment. Kefka would have their heads if they came back empty-handed.

Once Biggs is gone, Wedge smiles to himself and starts whistling as he looks for Jared half-heartedly.

_Too easy. Now I just have to stay out of the real Wedge's sight until we land, and I'll be good to go._

The false Wedge, formerly Jared, spends the remainder of the flight back to the dreary capital of the Empire playing cat and mouse with his two oblivious captors. Every once and a while he changes back into Jared to give the pursuers a false glimpse of hope, only to frustrate them a minute later when they run into each other.

When the Blackjack finally lands in Vector, two very disheartened soldiers leave to report to their superior what happened. Shortly after them comes another soldier in a rush, very angry, and very confused.

"Dammit, Biggs! Where did you go? I told you to wait for me..."

When Biggs and Wedge arrive at their superioer's quarters, they are greeted by a cold glare from the man, sitting at his desk and fidgetting like a bored schoolboy. The man looks like a joke with his frilly robes and face paint, but the murderous glint in his eyes dispels the clownish illusion instantly.

_Hmm...this one could be trouble. Too unpredictable. _Biggs thinks to himself, feeling a rare pang of concern. _Better not go too far, or he'll slit my throat where I stand._

"Well, did you bring that little swine back here?" The unpleasant voice is high-pitched and coarse. The man's stark white face twitches in impatience.

"Uh...we're terribly sorry, General Kefka, sir!" Wedge stammers, unable to hide his fear from the man in front of him. "We were, uh, unable to, er, capture the fugitive, sir!"

Biggs remains silent, unsure of what he should say. _I may have been better off going to jail._

"What?" The curious general twists his head sharply like a bird of prey and turns one wide eye on the hapless Wedge. "You were unable to capture the fugitive, you say?"

Kefka jumps up from his desk and circles the two soldiers like a vulture, his hands behind his back. His eye never leaves Wedge. As he paces around the two men, he occasionally smirks to himself, as if he just told a good joke. No one in the room is laughing, though.

"So, so, so...you two bumbling idiots let our little fly get away. What should I do about it, hmm? Should I hang you two instead? That would be fair, wouldn't it?"

Wedge turns pale and starts apologizing. Biggs holds up better, but inside he is quite afraid of what this prancing man is capable of.

Now Kefka turns his manic eye onto the seemingly stolid Biggs.

"Nothing to say for yourself? Speak up! I want to hear your pathetic voice beg for mercy. Or are you not afraid to die?" Kefka looks hard at Biggs, and holds his long finger up to the soldier. A sharp shard of ice begins to form at its tip, like a long, frozen nail. It just grazes Biggs's chin, and does not melt as it touches his hot skin.

"I am sorry sir! We will find him!" Biggs spits these words out automatically. He's half tempted to excuse himself, change into Jared and let himself be caught again, and hope for some other way out of this mess. He might be able to run circles around the two soldiers, but there was something about this Kefka he couldn't put his finger on. And that never happened with him. This man was an unknown.

Kefka keeps staring at Biggs, staring right through him, right through the facade, and into the real eyes of the person beneath the disguise.

_Does he know who I am? He's looking right at me, like he knows I'm an imposter. Impossible! My imitations are perfect!_

Kefka smiles thinly as he studies Biggs. "You're made of sterner stuff than the rest of the riff-raff around here. I have a good mission for you, keheheh!" Kefka quickly steps back and sits back down in his seat as if nothing had happened. He proceeds to scrawl a nearly illegible order on a sheet of paper, smiling wide the entire time.

Both men breath a sigh of relief as things cool down. There's nothing fake about either man's emotions. Perhaps the mad general is in one of his better moods today?

As if seeing their reaction, Kefka's head jerks up from his writing and his pale face shines back at them malevolently.

"Oh ho? Don't think I'm letting you two off!" He points a crooked white finger at Biggs. "You! Gibbs, or whatever. You will be on special assignment for the next three days."

Biggs doesn't correct him, and only gulps down his growing fear. The fact that he is not really Biggs, or a soldier of the Empire, and has no reason to even attempt to follow whatever orders this man gives him seems to be forgotten.

"General Celes seems to have gotten it into her pretty little head that this war shouldn't continue," Kefka spits out angrily. "She has written several nasty letters stating her opinions on the course of the war, and especially my own plans, and we cannot have that, now can we?" Kefka's mood darkens as he talks of his fellow general, and his smile grows thinner. "You will go to Miranda and bring her back here for questioning. By me. Understood?"

Biggs salutes. "Yes, sir! I will bring General Celes back to Vector at once!"

_I will do no such thing. As soon as this meeting is over, I am leaving for greener pastures. Vector is a hive of lunatics!_

Kefka practically rips the paper he is writing on as he signs his exaggerated signature. As Biggs watches in fascination, the Imperial general carefully folds the orders into a paper airplane, and shoots it at Biggs. He catches it wordlessly.

"Take this and see to it you don't mess things up again! You have three days, and then I want both you and Deweg back here for another even more important mission. You will be babysitting a very special friend of mine, hee hee hee!" Kefka waves his finger at them as if he were scolding a pair of naughty children. "Screw that one up, and I will kill you both with my own two hands. Now scram!"

_Finally. I feel sorry for these soldiers. I can see their deaths in this madman's eyes, clear as day. He has no intention of letting them live, regardless of how well they do._

The two soldiers leave the messy general's quarters and breath a pair of audible sighs of both relief and frustration as they recover their senses in the open air of Vector. The air is greasy, stale, and filled with sooty dust, but compared to the crucible of Kefka's room, it might as well be a field of roses.

"Wedge, I need to go get ready for my mission. I'll see you in a bit." Biggs says, taking his chance to get away from his enemy turned ally. After what they went through in Kefka's office, Biggs can't help but feel a little warmer towards the soldier that had just an hour ago been his jailer.

"Right. Sucks being under General Kefka's command. Every mission is a life or death mission, even if the mission itself is perfectly safe!" Wedge spits and curses his superior officer.

"How does a man like that get to be a general?" Biggs asks, genuinely curious. "He's obviously insane."

"You'd have to ask Emperor Gestahl that. Apparently, the goofball gets things done. And that's what Gestahl likes. You've heard the rumors about Kefka replacing Leo at Doma, right?"

"No."

"Well, I've heard Gestahl is very unhappy about General Leo taking so long. Leo claims he's up against a formidable mind inside the walls of Doma, and that it will take time to break such a mighty warrior's resolve. Six months at least. Kefka claims he can do it in one week, maybe less."

"Can he really do it?" Biggs asks, interested in the goings-on of the Empire, despite not having anything to do with either side. He had always been only a watcher of events, but at the moment, he seemed to be part of them. Strange!

"Kefka can do anything he puts his twisted mind to." Wedge says, with no little awe.

_It's like this Kefka isn't even human. And that was definitely real magic he used in there, same as the old Thamasan. Just what's going on in this Empire?_

"Well, at least he'll be off our backs if he is moved to Doma." Biggs says this with a real note of relief.

"If we live that long."

_He knows Kefka has him marked. He may not realize just how badly Kefka wants him dead, but a soldier always knows death when he sees it._

"We will. Take care, Wedge."

"You, too."

Biggs leaves Wedge, and heads back towards the airship. As he sees the leathery black bulge of the airship rise ahead of him, he ducks down an alley, and vanishes from sight. He has another appointment to make, and a message to pass along.

_This is one performance I won't enjoy. Some things there should never be two of in this world..._

Out of the alley a new man appears, the persona of Biggs left behind. The man now walking rapidly towards the Blackjack is covered with flowery green robes and pale white make-up. An ostentatious feather trembles from his greasy blonde hair as he arrogantly tromps down the street. As he sees a soldier approaching, a grimace of great displeasure fills the man's pale face, but a gleam of sly pleasure still tingles at its edges. However, the eyes aren't quite right...

_I will never be able to simulate that empty stare. And I never want to. Stare into the abyss to deeply, and it may just stare into you._

"General Kefka, sir!" This is Biggs. The real Biggs, desperately searching for his ally.

"You there, Gibbs!" Kefka shouts in a whiny voice, like an out of tune violin. "I've already met with your incompetent partner and he told me everything. You're both lucky to be alive after that screw up!"

Biggs winces as if struck, but tries to keep his composure. "I am sorry, sir! We will find him! He must still be in Vector!"

"Forget about that nobody! I have something more important for you. Take this, and see to it you bring this one back, understand?" Kefka's voice is harsh, but not quite so murderous as the real thing might have been. Sometimes an artist has to take liberties with his work for the benefit of the audience.

"Yes, sir!" Biggs takes the letter, still folded like a paper airplane, salutes, and runs for his life. He feels lucky Kefka was in such a good mood today.

_You don't know how lucky you were, at least for today._

Kefka watches for a moment and waits for the soldier to vanish, then makes his way towards the airship.

_Time to leave this lovely little dump. I'm sure the Blackjack's pilot won't mind giving the good General Kefka a lift._

As Kefka walks towards the airship's hull, a flash of silver hair appears over the railing, and a pair of angry eyes stares down at him.

"And what do you want? It's 10,000 gil per flight, even for you, General."

"Ohohoho! But of course, my friend! Catch!" Kefka takes a 10,000 gil note from his robes and folds it into a plane, just like before. He flings it up at the pilot, who catches it with one suspicious hand.

"Not putting it on Gestahl's tab this time? Good. It's about time you paid up. Get on."

The silver hair vanishes over the railing, and Kefka quickly gets on from below.

_A small price to pay, and smaller than that man thinks._

The airship roars to life and is gone in a plume of dust. Kefka watches from a porthole as the giant industrial complex of Vector's central structure shrinks from view. It looks like a massive, metal pyramid, towering over the smog-filled city streets around it.

_What a miserable place. Doesn't even look habitable. Now, where shall I go next? Nikeah? Figaro? Back to Mobliz?_

"Is this some kind of joke, clown?"

Kefka turns around surprised, seeing the airship pilot staring back at him, angrier than ever. In his hand he's waving the unfolded 10,000 gil note.

"This note is fake! Did you think Setzer Gabbianni wouldn't be able to tell fake money when he saw it? What kind of fool do you take me for?"

_Remember, this is Kefka he's talking to..._

"I take you for a very fine fool," Kefka screeches indignantly. "Who do YOU think you're dealing with, eh?" Kefka raises his hand and creates another sliver of ice at the tip of his finger, like a talon. He has no intention of actually using it, but he hopes to call this man's bluff.

"That's a neat trick, but it won't get you very far up here. Someone has to pilot this thing, remember?" Setzer's eyes are as cold as Kefka's talon of ice, and he doesn't waver at all.

_Hah, this one's tough, alright. Or perhaps I just don't have that true killer's look like the original. I like this man. I think it's time I put this charade to an end. Besides, it's not very fun being Kefka. I can't imagine what must rage through the real one's head._

"Fine, you got me." Kefka says with a strange un-Kefka like smile.

"You're damn right I got you. We're turning around and heading back to Vector immediately. You and your immature little games. Gestahl will hear about this."

"Wait, wait!" Kefka says in an unusually deep voice. "I'm not who I appear to be."

Setzer turns around and looks at him closely. "What?"

"I'm not Kefka."

Setzer doesn't show surprise, and only smiles. "I had a hunch. You acted too...sane. And Kefka's never even attempted to pay for anything in his life. But that's a damn good disguise. And the ice...nice touch."

"So you believe me?"

"Sure. But that doesn't change the fact that you're on my ship for free. I don't know who you are, and I don't care. I'm on my way to Kohlingen at the moment, and I'm dropping you off at the first town I can."

Kefka doesn't seem to mind. After all, anywhere is better than Vector. "So, where is that?"

"Zozo."

_Uh...almost anywhere._

"W-what?" Kefka blurts out nervously. "You can't drop me off there! That place is filled with nothing but criminals, thieves, and liars!"

"And that's exactly whatyou are." Setzer says smugly. He liked this man's guts, but not enough for a free ride. Sometimes when you gamble, you lose.

"Fine...I guess I can make do." Kefka says sadly.

_Back to Zozo, again. And I had thought I'd left that place behind._

"If you'll excuse me, I have an airship to fly. Don't try to run, there's nowhere to go."

Setzer turns to go, then looks back with a grin. "Oh, and if I were you, I'd change out of that getup. If you go in there looking like that, they'll eat you alive."

"I know."

After Setzer leaves, Kefka quickly decides on his next impersonation. It's his old stand-by for Zozo, and his typical choice for tough crowds.

_When in Zozo..._

The man that steps off of the Blackjack and into the rainy streets of Zozo, the crime capital of the world, is not Kefka. Setzer looks on in admiration as he watches the strange man leave. He's got guts, alright. Let's just hope they don't end up all over the streets.

The mountain-ringed city of Zozo is not a pleasant place. Vector is dirty, grimy, and filled with steam, smoke, and soot. Zozo is dirty, grimy, and filled with rain, garbage, and evil intent. They say it was founded by wandering thieves and the poorest, lowest dregs from Jidoor, and it only takes one glance at the wildly built city to believe these claims.

Within one minute of stepping foot onto the poorly maintained road, the man that was Kefka is instantly accosted. But one look at who he appears to be, and the would-be mugger backs off.

"S-Siegfried! I didn't recognize you! I'll go, I'll go!" And he goes, crawling back into the dark alleyway he slithered out from.

_Glad to see Siegfried is still as feared as always here. Perhaps I can leave town quickly, before anyone else notices me. _

The large man that now walks through the streets of Zozo is covered in sleek, jet black armor, and carries a massive sword on his back, and a gun at his side. His obvious swagger and flowing cape give the air of a king out for a stroll. There is no mistaking this man for anything less than a master warrior. And that's exactly what Siegfried wants them to think.

_Let's just hope the real Siegfried isn't here as well._

Just as Siegfried is preparing to exit the overcast city for brighter fields, he's stopped in his tracks by a rather unpleasant sensation. Something slimy is stuck to the back of his leg, holding him in place.

_Ugh, figures._

"Siegfried! What a surprise! I was just thinking about you, you know. Check this out!"

Siegfried turns around and meets the wide, inhuman gaze of his hidden companion. It's dark, as always in the gloomy city, but the glowing yellow eyes peering out from behind him are unmistakable. As is the sickening touch.

"What is it now, Ultros?"

The yellow eyes bulge with pride, and a bulbous creature slithers out from the shadows. It's a large purple octopus with a wide toothy grin that never seems to end. Zozo is known for its odd characters, and this creature is one of the more misanthropic miscreants to occasionally roam its streets.

He waves a tentacle in Siegfried's face, pleased with himself. "I stole this from Figaro Castle's armory! Doesn't it look dangerous? And valuable? Hm, what do you say?"

"It looks like a can opener to me, Ultros." Siegfried doesn't have time for this. He is well aware the real Siegfried is a connoisseur of weaponry, but he is not the real Siegfried.

"Aww, come on buddy! This is a first class, weapons-grade chainsaw! One of a kind! I'm sure a master of death such as yourself can see the value of something like this, eh? Eh?

"Nope, afraid not. Now, I am in a hurry, so if you would be so kind as to buzz off."

Ultros seems hurt by his would-be customer's words, but his grin doesn't show it. "Ouch! Well, I guess I'll just have to find something better. Just you wait, I'll impress you yet, Mr. High and Mighty!"

Ultros tucks the chainsaw away and bobs expectantly in front of Siegfried. He's not sure what the octopus wants now, but he doesn't really intend to find out.

"Well?" Ultros pipes up with his gurgling voice after a moment of being ignored. "Aren't you at least curious how I got this thing? You might find it more worth your while if you knew the story behind it, eh? Eh?"

_This ball of blubber just isn't going to let me go, is he? Fine._

"Fine."

"I knew you'd want to know! I knew it!" Ultros bubbles enthusiastically. "Well, I'll have you know I snuck into Figaro Castle the other night with a group of bandits, the Crimson Robbers. I'm sure you've heard of them."

"I have." Siegfried says, suddenly interested.

_I most certainly have, my obtuse little friend. More than you may know. Listening to this story might be good for me, after all._

"Anyways, we managed to sneak into the castle, and I snagged this thing from the armory, but we were caught! The entire band was put in jail, but I managed to escape, being the master thief that I am."

"Of course." Siegfried says pleasantly, wondering what the truth really was.

"This must be a valuable weapon if the entire Figaro guard was sent out to find who stole it, right? You should have seen them that night! Everyone everywhere! I was the only one to escape."

Siegfried is about to say something snarky, but is interrupted by a low voice from the shadows.

"Now, now, Siegfried, you know better than to believe a word of anyone in Zozo."

A behemoth of a man steps out into the murky street lights, a smile on his dark face. He looks like a dark-skinned giant, covered in a mountain of muscles, and wearing only a pair of crimson red fighting pants.

"Ultros, you little imp, you know full well you were nowhere near Figaro Castle that night. I was the one who barely escaped with my life, and it was my band of thieves that were captured." The dark man's voice booms with authority, but is strangely pleasant despite his accusations, and menacing appearance.

_Dadaluma, now? I seem to attract all the worst people of Zozo whenever I come here._

"Aw, Dads, you know I was just having fun. Can't I take the spotlight every once in a while?" Ultros pleads, his yellow eyes bulging for sympathy.

"At my expense." Dadaluma growls. "You will put that item back where you found it, if you please, and then kindly get out of my sight, before I do something ungentlemanly. You know how I abhor fighting." The man smiles peaceably, but his eyes tell a different story.

_There's nothing peaceful about you, Dadaluma. Getting out of here may be trickier than I thought. I have a feeling I know why the leader of the Crimson Robbers is showing his ugly face here._

Ultros takes the hint, and squiggles off into the darkness to follow Dadaluma's orders. Yes, Ultros knows full well there is nothing peaceful about Dadaluma.

"Now then, my old friend," Dadaluma says pleasantly, turning back to Siegfried. "I have a favor to ask you, one I am sure you will not turn down."

_I knew it. Looks like this day is going to be longer than I thought. If I were as powerful as the real Siegfried, this wouldn't be a problem. But some things can't be copied, and that kind of talent is exceptional. Well, I chose this guise, and I can't let Dadaluma know I'm a fake._

"Of course. You know I owe you one for getting me out of that jam back then."

"Glad you remember. I hope you weren't trying to climb Ramuh's tower again today?"

"Once is enough for me. I learned my lesson the first time."

_I most certainly did. Whatever that old man up there is, he's not human, that's for sure. I tried to impersonate him, and practically killed myself using his power. There's a lot more to the old hermit than some senile fool who pretends to talk to moogles and yetis, that's for sure._

"Good. It's time for you to return the favor, then. I want you to help me spring my band from Figaro Castle. The two of us together should be more than a match for them. After all, I'm the son of the great Duncan!"

_Such a liar, Dadaluma. You may look a little like Vargas, but I know a fake when I see one. You may have secretly watched Vargas and that Figaro princeling train, and studied with Duncan for a while before quitting, but you're still nothing but a brigand._

"As you say, Dadaluma," Siegfried says appeasingly. The man likes to talk, and calling him out on a lie would only lead to a fight. "Shall we be off? I did not intend to stay here long."

"Indeed. I have a chocobo standing by. We can be in Kohlingen in a few hours if we hurry."

Without another word, the two false warriors speed away from the vile streets of Zozo, and onto another adventure.

_Two in one day. Either I'm getting careless, or my personas are taking on a life of their own. It may be time to take a long vacation after this._

As the sun reaches its peak, the two strange companions reach the quiet hamlet of Kohlingen far to the north. There is not much to see here, nor is there much to do. Dadaluma skulks in the shadows as is his wont, and Siegfried goes to the bar to get a much needed drink. He knows this town well, like most towns, and is familiar with many of its inhabitants.

"What'll it be?" This is Lucky, the bartender. He most certainly doesn't recognize Siegfried, but Siegfried knows him. Lucky has served Siegfried under a dozen different names over the years, and has never suspected it was the same person.

_You think he would have caught on by now. I'm sure I'm the only one who orders this particular drink._

"One Regole Ale, please."

"Sure, comin' right up. Y'know, I never heard'uh this drink until some fellow showed it to me years ago. Nowadays, it seems all manner o' folk ask for it. I probably make it at least once a month. They're all strangers, though. How'd you hear about it?"

The man is a friendly fellow, and likes to talk. He's always trying to find out where the drink came from, and doesn't realize he's asking the very person who gave it to him every time.

"Just heard the name floating about. Thought I'd try it out." Siegfried says nonchalantly. This is the excuse he usually gives, and it always works. Maybe someday it won't. That would be interesting.

"Ah, someday I'll find out where this drink comes from. I never heard'uh Regole before. Wonder if it's a place?"

"Could be."

Lucky finishes mixing the drink, and slides it down to the armored gauntlet waiting at the end of the table. Siegfried gladly gulps it down after his long and dusty ride with the irritating Dadaluma. The only thing the man talks about is how superior he is to everyone else, and Siegfried hates that.

_I wouldn't be worth a simulacrumb if I couldn't appreciate the different skills and talents that other people bring into the world. If it was all about me, I'd have no reason to impersonate people!_

As Siegfried drinks his personal brew, he notices a strange man at the end of the bar. He has seen this man a few times before in his travels, and has always wondered just what he is about. The man seems like a wanderer, like himself, but barely speaks, and never shows his face. And that dog...

"That's quite the pet you've got there," Siegfried asks the black-clad man, hoping to get some information this time.

"He's not a pet." Short, as usual.

"My apologies. So what brings you to Kohlingen?"

"Business." Shorter.

"Oh? What do you do? I'm a famed swordsman, myself. Allow me to introduce myself..."

"I don't care what your name is."

Siegfried stops short, not surprised. He still doesn't even know the man's name, even after trying to talk to him for several years. He only knows the name of the massive dog, Interceptor. Strange name.

_Well, I tried. Even this formidable warrior's disguise doesn't faze him. He's as hard as they come. I'd try to impersonate him, but I think that dog would sniff me out in a second, and I doubt all the tricks in the world would get me away from him._

"Siegfried! Let's get going. I want to reach the castle before dark." Dadaluma calls out from just inside the doorway to the pub. He doesn't like to enter buildings, and he definitely doesn't want to get tangled up with the man Siegfried is talking to. Dadaluma was a hardened criminal, but that one...he was even harder.

Siegfried pays for the drink(with real money this time), and says good-bye to the man in black. He doesn't get a response, and the dog only growls at the suspicious character that bothered his master.

_Someday I'll get your story, my shadowy friend._

The two quietly leave the town behind, and head for the Figaro mountain range. Siegfried picked up a second chocobo at a stable along the way, and the two are ready to cross the range before nightfall. Unbeknownst to either man, there is a third member of their party, following just behind them. This man is also thief, and recognized Dadaluma instantly the moment he stepped foot in Kohlingen. It would seem all three are headed for the same place.

As the desert sands begin to shimmer over the horizon like a mirage and the mountains fade away, the two travelers go into stealth mode, making sure they cross the desert undetected. Unfortunately for them, the third traveler is still with them, and already has a plan in mind for them.

As the men cross the desert, they feel a low rumble, and then see a giant, deep blue back crest over the sands. It's one of the famous sandworms of the vast Figaro Desert, and it looks hungry. For a brief moment, the gaping hole of a mouth appears, rows of yellow teeth shining around a single cold abyss.

"Just ignore it," Dadaluma says. "They like to make a lot of noise, but if you steer clear of them, they leave you alone. That one is a big one, though! Strange color, too."

"I've seen them before," Siegfried says, a little worried. He has seen that particular one before. There's no mistaking the size and color of it. The deep blue carapace is a dead giveaway, compared to the more greyish hues of the regular sandworm that are seen in this region. The deadly Zone Eater, a wandering worm that can travel from region to region by burrowing far deeper than a regular sandworm.

_It must have smelled a familiar prey when I entered the desert, and is surfacing just to let me know it's still around. I barely got away from it the last time I was here. Let's just hope Dadaluma is enough to scare it off for now. _

The two continue past the surfacing sandworm, breathing easier once it disappears under the sands again.

A few hundred feet from the isolated castle, Dadaluma stops. This is as far as he will go.

"Siegfried, you go on ahead. I'll stay here and watch for the guards while you break my men out. I'll whistle if they suspect someone is in the castle."

"Chickening out already?" Siegfried asks angrily. He knew the coward wouldn't risk his own neck, even for his own men. Everyone in the castle knows who Dadaluma is, but Siegfried is a stranger.

"Look, they know my face. You could probably walk in there claiming to be a tired traveler. It wouldn't even really be a lie, now would it?"

Siegfried sighs. Dadaluma doesn't know how easily Siegfried actually could sneak into the castle, even disguised as Dadaluma himself. He's pretended to be the leader of the Crimson Robbers before, and could easily do it now. Wait a minute...

_This will be one of my finest performances, I think. It's taking one of my personas a little farther than I'd like, but it will be interesting to see how far I can take my talents. Remember - right place, right time._

"You're right." Siegfried says, changing his mind. "I'll go on ahead, and you stay here."

"Glad you see it my way. You know how I detest violence." Dadaluma smirks.

Siegfried races off along a large dune, hiding himself from the castle's watchful eyes. He knows these sands and their inhabitants well, having impersonated Figaro guards on more than one occasion.

Right behind him, the hidden pursuer follows intently and silently. He ignores Dadaluma, and focuses on the man attempting to sneak into the castle. The sun is setting quickly, and soon it will be dark. That is when he'll make his move.

When the unknown man attempts to corner his quarry at sunset, he is surprised to find that the man has vanished. But now who is this lurking about the castle instead? Large build, dark skin, blood-red garb? Dadaluma? Strange, seeing as the man was left back in the desert. Something must have changed, and he must have missed it. No matter, the plan is the same, no matter who he catches.

"Halt!"

Dadaluma turns around quickly, surprised that he's been spotted already. He had only just managed to enter the side door of the castle. No matter, the plan is the same, no matter who gets caught.

"Come back to get your men, I presume?" The voice floats confidently from around the corner of the castle wall, and Dadaluma has no idea who has spotted him. He never heard any whistle, but he suspected he was being lied to anyways. Never trust a man from Zozo.

"That was the idea," Dadaluma says calmly to the shadows. He squints in the fading light, hoping to recognize the man that bested him.

"Stay where you are. I've already alerted the castle guards. They'll be here in a moment, and you'll be reunited with your men soon enough."

Dadaluma can't make out anything in the dimness, and before he can move several powerful hands clamp down on his shoulders.

"Dadaluma, you're under arrest for the theft of Figaro royal armaments. Come with us, and do not resist. The king is watching."

_Oh? King Edgar, eh? The more witnesses, the better. But who is the man that found me so soon?_

"No worries. I hate fighting, so you win," Dadaluma says pleasantly. Always be a gentlemen, even if you're lying through your teeth.

As Dadaluma is led away, he catches a glimpse of his mysterious pursuer meeting with the king. The man looks like a thief, dressed all in coarse leather and wearing a bandanna, but he carries himself like a world-class adventurer, and seems to be on friendly terms with the king.

_A noble thief? How quaint. Maybe the king is paying him his reward for capturing me. If only he knew the truth..._

Soon, Dadaluma finds himself in the Figaro dungeon, where it looks like he will be spending the night. He had expected this, and plans to be out by morning. Guards were all the same, whether they were from the Empire or Figaro.

As he passes the various cells, he sees the rest of the Crimson Robbers locked away. They let out shouts of anger and defeat when they see their leader being locked up beside them, but they are also glad he came back to rescue them, even if he did fail.

_Too bad. These guys aren't really that bad. They just happen to have a real loser for a boss. I bet their trusty leader is already halfway back to Zozo by now, and I doubt he'll be making another attempt after this. Poor fools. They'll be better off with me leading them for a little while, I think._

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Mr. Fancy Pants himself!" A low voice growls from the farthest cell from the entrance, and Dadaluma cringes at the feral sound. He knows that voice all too well.

"Got yourself caught did you? How convenient."

Dadaluma looks down the row of cells and sees a filthy wolf's snout poking through the bars.

_This could complicate things. _

"Be quiet, Lone Wolf! That's our boss you're talking to. He'll bust us out no problem, just you watch."

"I wouldn't be too sure," Lone Wolf barks noisily. His animal laughter echoes through the jail, causing the guards beside Dadaluma to tense. They quickly stuff Dadaluma into his cell, right next to Lone Wolf's, then leave. Having a werewolf within their walls does not sit well with many of the denizens of Figaro Castle.

"Nice to see you again," Lone Wolf says quietly through the bars.

"I wish I could return the sentiment," Dadaluma says a little nervously. He knows where this is going.

"How long do you think you can fool them?"

"What do you mean?"

"You can't fool my nose. And they'll figure out you're not their real boss eventually. You're good, but you're no scoundrel like he is. Sooner or later they'll realize you're a fake. You're just too...good! Hahaha!"

_The sad thing is he's right. I couldn't be Kefka, and I won't be able to be Dadaluma forever. Maybe just long enough to get them out of here._

"How about we make a deal, eh?" Lone Wolf's tongue licks the bars in anticipation.

"Let me guess, I'll take your place, and you'll escape?"

"Look, this place is going to be attacked by the Empire any day now. I don't want to be here when that happens. Someone like me, the Empire gets rid of, you know? Loose ends and all that. You take my place, and then you can easily turn into an Imperial soldier or something and escape yourself in the confusion. That's what you do isn't it?"

Lone Wolf has a point. That was exactly what he did. And with Lone Wolf out of the picture, his secret was that much safer. Yes, this might work out after all.

"Alright, I agree."

As soon as Dadaluma says the words, he hears a click, and the sound of a cell door sliding open. In a moment, Lone Wolf leaps in front of Dadaluma's cell, and is quickly and deftly picking the lock with a glittering hairpin. The doors swing open, and now both thieves are free.

"You were just waiting for the perfect time, weren't you?"

"Of course. And the time has arrived!" Lone Wolf stifles a howl of joy as he stretches his long, hairy legs and runs quietly from one end of the row of cells to the other on padded feet.

While Lone Wolf is busy enjoying his freedom, Dadaluma takes the opportunity to make the exchange complete. When Lone Wolf returns to his cell, he finds an unsettling sight waiting for him, but it is one he had expected.

"You really are good." Lone Wolf says with a rare note of appreciation. He is looking at an exact duplicate of himself, standing right where he had been holed up for almost a week.

"The best." Lone Wolf replies to himself in the same throaty growl of a voice.

"Alright, I'm outta here." Lone Wolf says, turning to face one of the walls of the hallway.

"How do you plan on getting out of here?" Lone Wolf asks himself.

"I'll dig. The wall right here is thin, and with my claws I can dig my way right back into the desert."

"I am a clever one, aren't I?" Lone Wolf complements himself. "Just watch out for sandworms. An especially big one has been seen poking around recently. It'll swallow you in one gulp if it sees you."

"Hah, you too, old friend," Lone Wolf says sarcastically. "Later."

And Lone Wolf is gone in a cloud of sand and rubble.

_Now I wait for the right time and right place. With me here, they'll think Dadaluma is the one that escaped. When I see my chance, I'll change back to Dadaluma, and rescue these hapless thieves of his. I think I'll even use the same tunnel Lone Wolf used. I just hope that sandworm doesn't find me on the way out. Ah well, I guess spending my time in a jail cell, or even a worm's belly is better than some places I've been cooped up in. Beats a tower at the bottom of the ocean, that's for sure!_

As the fake Lone Wolf contemplates his plans, the shaggy head of the real Lone Wolf pokes back up from his hole, covered in sand.

"Don't forget to lock my cell door. Seeing as you're me now, you should have no problem picking the lock when the time comes." Lone Wolf laughs, and flicks the golden hairpin in his fingers before pocketing it again. "You'll need to get your own pick, though, hahaha!"

The fake Lone Wolf reveals a shining hairpin, seemingly identical to the one the real Lone Wolf used. He nods and winks, then sits cross-legged to wait out the long night. The real wolf is visibly impressed.

"Damn, you are good. I bet it's not a real golden hairpin, but it will pick a lock just as well."

Both Lone Wolfs look at each other for a moment, a curious connection hanging between them. These are two wanderers lost in a strange land, and they've made the best of it over the years, making new friends and enemies along the way. But the winds of change are blowing harder than ever now, and they both feel a familiar sense of urgency and impending crisis, just like before. It is in this strange mood that Lone Wolf says a phrase he rarely ever uses on his fellow man before turning and vanishing back down his hole.

"Be careful, Gogo."


	12. Terra

**~Terra~**

"Good morning, Terra."

Words. She hears words, and her eyes open.

The blank silence of night ends, the white noise of day begins.

The never-ending series of incomprehensible images and sounds rises up before the young girl once again. The days are all the same to her, for she remembers nothing of each previous blur of events called "day" and "night". She is born from the womb of complete ignorance every day of her life. This is the way it has been for all time, as far as the poor soul is capable of reckoning it.

"Does she really understand what we're saying?"

More words. She does understand them. She does not understand _how _she understands them, but her subconscious mind puts them together and gives them meaning all the same. A relic of a lost life before the only life she is aware of now, she might suppose, if she could suppose anything.

"She obeys commands quite well. Tell her to kill, and she kills. What more do you need from a weapon?"

This voice brings pain to the girl, and she does not know why. Has she heard the voice before? It is a harsh whine, pitiless and cruel. She does not like the man it belongs to. Sometimes the voice slips softly into her bound mind while she sleeps, like a silken dagger in the dark. She does not remember the voice when she wakes, but she remembers the pain.

"Kefka, I think this has gone on long enough. The mental damage we must be inflicting on the girl with this device must be devastating."

This voice is softer, gentler. She likes this voice. If she could put a word to the feelings the voice gives her, it would be "parental".

"Shut your mouth, Cid. She's my plaything, and I will do as I please with her. Or would you like to take it up with Gestahl?"

When the harsh voice speaks, she cringes. She sees the strange white-faced man laugh at her discomfort, and is confused. She cannot make sense of many of the things the white-faced man says and does. It might ease her fractured mind a little to know that she is not alone in this, and that even normal people feel the same discomfort she does in the man's presence. But she cannot know this, and remains in a haze of unease.

"I wash my hands of any further involvement in this project! I cannot disobey the Emperor, but I will not be party to the inhuman methods you employ. You're on your own from here on out."

The kind voice does not sound quite so kind now, and the girl is afraid. She watches in dumb silence as the kind man storms out of the tiny room she calls home.

What is this feeling in her stomach? She does not know its name, but it is sadness. She is being abandoned, and her primitive instincts know this. The memories of previous days are lost to her, locked away by the wretched thing on her head, but each loss of a comrade etches itself into her psyche permanently, untouchable and inviolable.

One by one all the good people around her have been forced to flee in disgust before the irrepressible force of the white-faced man. Now she is truly all alone, and the deepest parts of her being are acutely aware of this. Her eyes cry, and the horrible man laughs.

"Uweeheehee! Now you're all mine, my magical pet!"

She hates this man, even though her memories of him only extend back no more than an hour. Just as the kindness of the ones who have gone is etched into her psyche, so, too, is the malice of the one who remains. The countless years of torture have left their mark on the girl's soul, and as her eyes cry their futile tears, the magical energy inside her flares up. The heat of anger that has no name fills the room, but still the horrible man laughs and laughs.

"Yes, yes, burn everything! Just a couple more days, and then I will unleash you on the world!"

As the endless laughter tears into her mind like a scythe, the overwhelming pain causes her to black out. This is a defense mechanism, and keeps her sane through the long years of confinement.

What really happens during these episodes of nothingness she does not know, and does not want to know. Sometimes when she comes to after an episode, she is covered in a thick, red liquid. It smells bad, and feels sticky. The sight of it makes her want to scream, but the device on her heard prevents any unwanted outbursts. She is the perfect soldier.

Every once in a while, while she is blacked out, another voice drifts through her mind, soothing her like a loving caress. It is unlike the voices she hears while waking. It echoes through her head, coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. If it is even a voice at all, she does not know, but it feels like it protects her, keeps her whole. Keeps her human, if that is what she even is.

_You are safe inside your own mind. Inside your mind, you are free._

_Remember my voice, Terra. Remember the voice of your father. Remember who you are._

_I am always by your side, even now. As long as there is life in my body, I will keep you safe the only way I know how._

_As long as you wear my pendant, your mind will never truly belong to anyone but you. It is a powerful talisman, and embodies all the hopes and dreams of this world. It is my gift to you, and it will protect you as it has protected this world for millennia._

_Do not fear your power. Do not fear your heart. As your power grows with time, so too does the compassion I know you possess. Soon, a time will come when the power inside you will become too great to be fettered, and then you will truly be free to live, and to love._

_Never give up hope, for you ARE hope. _

_Inside your mind, you are free..._

An eternity passes, the bodiless voice fades, and light fills the world again. She will forget the words soon, but not their power. Strength fills her veins, and she is renewed, reborn. The white-faced man is still there - he is always there - and she does not care now. The man sees a serene face, devoid of emotion, and is pleased at her supposed obeisance.

Little does he know that this serenity is his greatest enemy. Behind those quiet eyes is a growing power, beyond anything he could hope to control. Someday he will meet the real woman behind those eyes, and he will not be laughing then.

"Uwahaha! Splendid! Magnificent! More blood, more destruction! Soon you will be ready! So very soon, I can barely stand it!"

The man quivers in an agonizing ecstasy of bloodlust, completely enraptured by his own fantasies. He is as much a prisoner of his twisted world as the girl, and he does not even know it.

A rare feeling of satisfaction washes over the girl as she watches the man dance to his own machinations. Her subconscious mind sees the squirming of the man, and knows by instinct that she is above him. He is her captor, but when she looks down at him from atop the strange machine he makes her ride, her animal instincts tells her that he is less than her.

It is in these rare moments that she feels the freedom the internal voice hints at.

The man stops laughing, then scowls, pouts, and rages obscenely. His own instincts have told him he is being measured, and found unworthy. She senses this, and knows the fear of the white-faced man once more. He is a wild animal, and her instincts tell her she must be careful.

"Grrr...stop drooling over your controls and fire! Kill that wyvern in one shot! Obey me, you little wench!"

Something inside her clicks dully, and she obeys, like always. The red corpse of the flying reptile drops instantly as it is hit by a barrage of magical energy from the machine she rides. Another life vanishes from the world, and Terra feels the loss deep down. She will forget this death, just like all the others, but her body will remember. How much longer until her core is as cold and dead as the white-faced man?

"Kill, kill, kill! That's it! Blast another one! The soldiers may have learned to keep away from us, but these stupid beasts will never learn. Just like you, eh?"

Her anger flares up again, and a blaze of fiery rage erupts all around her.

Several more dead wyverns drop from the skies, charred beyond recognition. The earth is scorched all around the training area, and the horrible man laughs and laughs.

The machine amplifies her own powers, and can cause great carnage when she is stressed while riding it. She does not like this, but the horrible man knows how to push her. He revels in her suffering, and does everything he can to ignite the flames of her darkest emotions. And he is very adept at it.

"Good! Narshe won't know what hit them when you bust into that filthy little town. You are quite the beautiful monster! I love it! Uwahaha!"

Oh how she wants to destroy that voice! But no matter how her blood boils, she cannot strike the owner of that harsh voice. His power over her is undeniable, and no matter how angry he makes her, he always manages to focus and aim her outbursts exactly where he wants. She hates it! She hates him! She hates the powerlessness he instills in her!

"I hate you, Kefka!"

Flames explode around her, even greater and higher than before, scorching the heavens in the girl's courageous efforts to shake free. But it is to no avail. As the clouds burn and the air trembles, she sees that the horrible man known as Kefka is still there.

The unexpected second of coherence surprises them both, but the man only laughs. As the throbbing haze of incognizance settles on her once more, the girl is baffled by the strange words she just uttered, but the white-faced man does not seem bothered.

"And that's my cue! Today was fun, my little pet, but you're getting cranky, and it's time to put you to bed! Remember, tomorrow will be exactly the same, and the day after that, and the day after that. You can throw all the tantrums you like, but all your struggles mean nothing to me. You are mine. MINE! Uwahahahahahaha...!"

The laughter trails off into an incoherent blur of sound as the girl sways and begins to lose consciousness. The device on her head whirrs and clicks with increased effort as it forces her back down, down, down.

The moment of freedom was brief and glorious, like an exploding sun. Now she feels as downtrodden and lifeless as when she woke. Fighting this man's control, fighting her own wild powers and emotions, fighting to remain sane...these endless battles take their toll on the innocent young girl's mind and body. She is utterly exhausted by the time this current cycle of light and darkness ends.

Tomorrow will be the same, and she knows this now, but will not know it when the next day comes. For now, she fades into the welcome silence of night, the short life she led today obliterated by the daily cleansing of the device on her head. In a few moments, the person she began to develop into will be killed, and she will be a clean slate for the next day, and the next, and next...

Once more as she fades to nothing, just as she thinks all hope is lost, the voice of her dreams speaks its mantra of support...

_You are free inside your mind. Never forget. I am here with you._

_The time will come when you will be free truly, and the world will be yours to enjoy._

_Do not fear. Do not give up hope. Kefka can try as hard as his black heart wishes, but hope will always survive, deep down in your heart - in the hearts of all good men, women, and children. He will not win. He cannot win._

_Remember. Remember who you are, and what you stand for._

_You are my daughter, my hope, and my life._

_You are my beloved, my precious Terra._


	13. The Good Soldier

**~Leo~**

"General Leo, sir!"

_What time is it? Did I fall asleep?_

"Sir, I have a fresh report from the front lines!"

Leo woke from his brief rest with a quick snap, his eyes reddened and sunken from lack of sleep, but his face alert and cheerful. He had only slept for fifteen minutes at most, but that was all he could afford during wartime. The sun was still hours from rising, but there were far too many decisions to be made, problems to handle, and crises to avert. Sleep would have to wait for another day.

"What is it, Kay?" The tired general asked with no pomp or formality, as was his way. Everyone was on equal footing in his regiment, and he knew the names of every man under his command. The Imperial base was more like a family than a battalion, with Leo the honored patriarch.

"Sir!" The officer, Kay, saluted sharply, delivering his pre-dawn message quickly. "The Doman civilians have completed their evacuation of the castle, and only the soldiers remain inside. What is to be our next move? Should we follow the refugees and stop them?"

Despite Leo's lack of formality, his soldiers respected him far too much to treat him the same. No matter how friendly he acted with his troops, he was still treated like some sort of benevolent god of war, untouchable and unknowable. For every inch he made towards camaraderie, the soldiers would step back two more, always keeping him just out of reach. He understood their position, but he wished he could just be "one of the guys" again, like he used to be back when he was still a grunt.

As Leo rolled off his hammock onto his feet, he lifted his long green general's coat off the hook next to him and back onto his broad shoulders. It felt like he never took the coat off nowadays. Inside, his tent was no different from any of his soldier's tents, and there was barely enough room for the officer and himself. The moment Leo stood up, the officer stepped back to give him more room, practically pushing himself out the tent's flaps. Leo only smiled, knowing any attempt to usher the man back in would be futile.

"Let the civilians escape unharmed. Even if they flee into occupied territory, make no move against them. Aide them if they let you. Our target is the castle, not the people. The only people I plan on engaging are the ones who wish to fight."

"Yes, sir!" The officer saluted again, then turned and left as quickly as he came. No arguments, no explanations. Whatever General Leo said was followed, absolutely.

Leo chuckled to himself. It was nice to be obeyed, but sometimes he wished they would at least stick around for something to eat or drink. Breakfast was such a lonely time for a leader, and Leo didn't waste more than the bare minimum on it. He quickly grabbed a chunk of bread and a piece of dried meat from the bedside cooler, gulped down a few pints of fresh water from his tin cup, then walked out into the dark, damp air of early morning. Dew still clung to the sparse grasses struggling to survive the harsh dry landscape where the base was located.

"Good morning, sir!"

"Good morning, Ector."

"Good morning, sir!"

"Good morning, Bors."

"Sir, if you have a moment, our squad needs your approval on an urgent order!"

"Of course, what is it, Tristan?"

Leo saluted and smiled at every soldier he passed as he made his way to the base headquarters. He had greeted over a dozen men and given just as many orders before he finally made his way to the large tent that served as the meeting place for all the senior staff. The base never slept, and Leo tried to keep up with all of its goings-on as best he could. Working on only a half hour or less of sleep a day and dealing with a never-ending stream of soldiers in need of his input was the only life he had known since the war began. Peace and quiet were as foreign to Leo as the strange land he now found himself struggling to conquer.

None of this bothered him, though. Fighting for his country, for his Emperor, that was all Leo felt he needed to be satisfied. Just as the soldiers worshiped and respected Leo, so too, did Leo worship and respect his Emperor. The loyal soldier obeyed every order from above, absolutely.

_Emperor Gestahl is a true visionary, and soon the world will see an era of peace unmatched by any previous time in history. Let the naysayers gossip about warmongering all they want. Time will be the true judge of our country's great achievement._

Leo knew many people, including the stubborn Domans, reviled the Empire, and especially Emperor Gestahl. He had heard all sorts of rumors of atrocities committed by his fellow generals and commanders, but believed very few of them. He knew General Celes personally, and knew she was as noble and pure a soul as anyone, and he could personally vouch for almost every high-ranking soldier in the army. Unfortunately, it only took one bad apple to spoil the people's opinion of this war of peace. And that apple went by the name of Kefka.

_Ah, Kefka. Why do you have to act like such a child? Don't you realize your antics are casting a pall over the whole war effort? I must speak to the Emperor about curbing his impulsive tendencies soon, or he will undo all we have worked to achieve. The Emperor will know what to do with that man._

Leo mulled over his fellow generals while he approached the long tent that served as central command. He knew there was nothing he could do while he was stranded so far away from the capital city of Vector. For now, he must focus on the proud Domans, and find some way to neutralize their forces with as little bloodshed as possible.

As Leo walked into the tent, he was bombarded by a trio of officers, each with their own problems for him to resolve.

"General Leo, you're just in time! The Telstars are fully operational, and just need your approval to be activated."

"General Leo! What should we do with the crates General Kefka sent here? They are unmarked and we aren't sure how to handle them."

"General Leo, sir! The Doman soldiers have begun their counterattack, and are fighting more fiercely that ever! Should we deploy the Magitek Armor?"

Leo listened patiently as each man struggled to get his attention first. He was aware of each man's concerns, and answered each of them in turn, slowly making his way to his seat at the long meeting table as he talked.

"Percival, keep the Telstars locked up and powered down until absolutely necessary. I don't trust a heartless machine that follows programmed instructions over a human being who can react, improvise, and listen. Our troops are more than adequate to handle the Domans for now. They have nothing like our technology on their side, and using the Telstars would be overkill, if not downright barbaric."

The officer known as Percival looked disappointed at Leo's orders as he took his seat again, but he would obey them without comment. He was the head of the Magitek Research and Development on the base, and was always eager to try every new gadget Vector sent them, even if the situation on the front lines deemed them unnecessary. Leo was still old-fashioned, and didn't trust anything that wasn't human. Most of the heavy armaments that had been delivered were still locked away in the supply tents, seemingly forgotten. But Percival trusted Leo, and knew that when the time was right his general would use whatever was appropriate for the situation.

"Lamorak, put the crates into deep storage at Supply Tent 4. I have no idea what Kefka was thinking sending his own personal supplies here, but I want nothing to do with them. This is my front, and I will not tolerate his interference. It's thoughtless actions like his that are giving this war a bad reputation."

Lamorak nodded and gave the order to a soldier next to him to move the crates to their designated area. Lamorak didn't mention that the dogs on base stayed away from the crates like frightened puppies, or that soldiers that had come with the crates on board the Blackjack wore gas masks and handled the crates like live explosives. Whatever was in them was Kefka's business, and he agreed with General Leo. This was their war, not Kefka's. Keep those things as far out of sight as possible and forget about them. Supply Tent 4 was the most isolated tent on the base, and whatever went in there never came out again. Good riddance.

"Galahad, not yet. Keep the Magitek Armor ready and fueled, but do not deploy until we can do so without heavy casualties. The Domans are a proud warrior class, but they cannot hold out against our numbers much longer. Just keep them penned in, and we will emerge the victors. If it looks like they are gaining too much ground, you have my permission to deploy just one small group of Armor to show the Domans what we can do when we are pressed. Magitek energy is like nothing they've ever seen before, and should scare them back inside the castle if it comes down to that."

_Magitek energy truly is like nothing any of us have seen. It seems horribly unfair to even use it at all against our enemies. To think, Cid actually wanted to turn me into some sort of magitek weapon! All I need is the Scion and my soldiers, and I can accomplish all the Emperor requires of me._

Leo fingered the ever-present sword at his side, the crystalline blade Scion, uneasily. War was meant to be fought hand to hand, blade on blade. All these innovations that had been pouring out of Vector these past few years disturbed him. As soon as Cid had unveiled the marvels of the new power source known as Magitek, scientists around the Empire began furiously implementing it in every way they could think of. Even using it on human beings to augment their battle capabilities! Kefka might have been willing to take such an unfair advantage, but Leo would never dream of it, especially after seeing what it did to Kefka. His father and his father before him had fought using nothing but the Scion and their own innate talents, and Leo would do no less. The Christophe legacy would not be disgraced with cheap tricks. He loathed to even use the Magitek Armors for intimidation purposes, but he couldn't deny the impact they would have if things really did turn against them.

After taking care of the initial problems of the three officers, Leo sat down at his chair at the head of the lengthy table, and smiled affably at the gathered men.

"Now then, down to the business of the day. Galahad brings up a very good point. Now that the Domans have safely evacuated their civilians, they are redoubling their efforts to regain the surrounding farmlands. Their strategy seems to be to take advantage of their superior knowledge of the land, and give themselves the better position whenever possible. So far, it's working."

"Sir, they are being led by a truly fierce warrior," Galahad said with reluctant admiration. "The man fights like a dragon, and inspires his troops to do the same. I say we should do everything we can to eliminate him now, while the Domans are still building their offensive."

Leo grimaced at the word "eliminate", but he had to agree. "I have heard stories about this mighty warrior that leads the Domans back from the brink of defeat. The reports say he is a Garamonde, perhaps the most skilled to come from that line in centuries." Leo smiled as he saw the faces of his men slacken in dismay at the mention of the name Garamonde. The name was practically as revered on the battlefield as Christophe.

"Are you sure we shouldn't deploy just one unit of Armors to take this Garamonde out of the battle, sir?" Percival piped up, hoping the feared name would push his general to agree.

Leo remained adamant in his position. "No. This leader of men is still just a man himself. We will continue to press his troops with our numbers while our blockade around the castle lands remains secure. We will wear him out eventually, and he will have no choice but to retreat back into the castle to renew his forces."

"What then, sir?" A large man spoke from the corner, his gruff voice muffled by the heavy armor he insisted on wearing. Leo knew him well, and knew he was one of the fiercest warriors on the base.

"Once it is apparent to the Domans that they cannot break through our lines, they will try to wait us out inside the castle. That will be our opportunity to strike a crippling blow." Leo studied the armored man's half-hidden face, knowing exactly what he was thinking.

"You, Lance, will lead a special unit straight up to the walls of the castle. Don't give them a chance to get comfortable in there. Your unit will be small, no more than a dozen soldiers. Just enough to sneak under their fortifications and engage them directly at their front gate. You can confront this Garamonde yourself if he shows himself, which I believe he will. I'll leave the choice of men up to you."

Lance smiled and nodded. He was a man of few words, and usually let his giant axe speak for him. This kind of mission was his specialty, and he was glad General Leo trusted him to carry it out. He would not let his commander down.

"Gaharis, Gareth, Gawaine, you're with me," Lance rumbled from his chair. The three men he named stood at attention. Lance rose slowly, and left with a nod to Leo, his three chosen warriors behind him.

"Remember," Leo added as the four men left, "wait until they retreat, and then strike. For now, we stand our ground and tire them out."

After Lance had left, Leo continued going down the list of daily affairs with his officers. With each passing hour, the importance of the topics dwindled, until finally Leo reached the last topic on the list - a request for additional waste removal units from Vector. The sun had just fully risen above the horizon by the time the meeting was over. For most people, this would mark the beginning of their day.

Leo squinted as he exited the tent into the bright sunlight. He felt like he had already spent an entire day inside the dimly lit tent. The scenery on the base was dismal at best, and Leo wished he was on the front lines with his men, sword in hand. He remembered the wide grassy plains outside Doma, a stark contrast to the near-desert conditions on this side of the Doma River. Doma was a beautiful country, and he felt saddened at the strife he had brought to it, but orders were orders.

_Once the war is over, I will see to it personally that the fields and forests that we destroyed are replanted. Such a magnificent landscape should not be lost._

"Sir Leo!"

Leo was jarred out of his green reverie by the all too familiar sound of a soldier in need.

"Yes, Agravaine?"

The smallish soldier seemed nervous in Leo's presence. "S-Sir, I hate to bother you but..."

Leo smiled disarmingly. There were many soldiers like this one. "No bother at all. I was just going to grab a quick bite before inspecting the camp. Care to join me?"

"I couldn't!" Agravaine said, shocked.

"Of course you could, but I won't twist your arm," Leo said kindly, but a bit saddened. That barrier between him and his soldiers was truly impenetrable. "Now, what did you need?"

"Sir! A report just came in from the capital! General Kefka has been scheduled to arrive here in a few weeks!"

Leo couldn't hide the frown on his face at the mention of that man. "Kefka? Why would he come here?"

Agravaine frowned exactly the same way Leo did as he handed Leo the report. Rumors had been flying around camp that Kefka was to be the next general in charge of the Doman front, and no one cared to believe it. A report like this only heightened their suspicions, and their fear.

Leo scanned the report quickly, his frown deepening as he read.

"One week?" Leo burst out after a moment, surprising the young soldier beside him. "The man must be mad, to make promises like that to the Emperor. Doma will never fall that quickly! Let Kefka come here and assist me if he must, but he will be sorely dismayed at the difficulty of dislodging a worthy opponent!"

Leo was visibly angered by the report. Seeing the general out of temper was a rarity, and did not sit well with the poor Agravaine.

"Surely you have more pull than General Kefka with Emperor Gestahl, sir? Can't you just send a report back declining his assistance?"

Leo sighed. "I'm afraid not. The Emperor has taken a strange liking to the man. It's as if Kefka can do no wrong in the Emperor's eyes. I don't understand it, but I am a soldier just like you. We must have faith that our superiors know what's best for the Empire. That is the duty of a soldier."

"Yes, sir." Agravaine said.

"Yes, indeed," Leo added. "Are you sure you won't join me for a drink?"

"Sorry sir, but I could never waste your time like that! I'm sure you have much better things to do with your time than watch after me."

Unfortunately, the young soldier was right. Leo would have to eat while he inspected the camp. The little time he had allotted for his meal had been taken up while he received the unpleasant report from Agravaine.

"Some other time then, alright?" Leo said as affably as he could.

"Uh, y-yes sir!" Agravaine stuttered, then excused himself.

"Time...," Leo mused as he trudged quickly back to his tent to grab another piece of bread and a gulp of water. "Never enough time."

_Once this war is over, I'll have all the time I want, I'm sure of it. This will be the last war, and then the world will be at peace. Maybe then I can settle down and find a wife. Hah, I'm so out of practice, I doubt I could ever convince anyone to marry me! But that is one battle I will be glad to fight._

Leo spent much of the rest of the morning marching from one corner of the base to the other, making sure everything was functioning smoothly. No one was forgotten, not even the lowliest trash collector. Several times he tried to make friendly conversation with the workers, but it was always forced on their end. He knew his presence was unnerving, and tried to calm the men down, but it was impossible. As soon as the great General Leo appeared, everyone worked twice as hard, and acted twice a polite. The men respected him just too much to bring him down to their level.

Eventually the tired general had to make do with the pack of doberman hounds near the back of the base. The dogs were huge, and looked vicious, but they were exquisitely trained. On the battlefield they were fearsome beasts, but here in their pen they were harmless and playful. Leo petted one of them without fear, letting it lick his hand freely.

_At least the dogs aren't afraid to be around me. Perhaps I should take one of them as a pet, something to keep me company while I strike fear and awe into everyone else._

Leo took as much time as he could with the dogs, soaking up their innocence as best he could. Inevitably someone came to find him with another concern.

"General, there you are!"

Leo smiled his tireless smile. "Ah, so you found me, Bedivere. What can I do for you?"

"The Domans are mounting another attack, we need you immediately!"

Leo stopped petting the giant dog behind the pen's fence and nodded gravely. "I expected as much. From the western hillside, where the trees overhang a small valley, correct?"

Bedivere's mouth popped open briefly in surprise, but maintained his composure in front of his general. "Y-yes, sir. How did you know?"

"Based on their last attack, I figured that's where they'd spring from next. It's what I would have done in their situation. They're spiraling around the base, getting closer with each surprise strike."

"What should we do? Should we deploy the Magitek Armor now?"

"No!" Leo said more forcefully than he intended. "No. There's no need for them yet. I'll go and survey the battlefield right now, and make sure this attack ends before they have a chance to build any more momentum."

Leo stood up straight and marched in the direction of the attack at a rapid clip. He didn't run, and remained completely calm as he strode up to the western edge of the base. Smoke was rising from the small grove of trees that had hidden the Doman strike force. The glare of the noonday sun obscured the battlefield from the Imperial side, exactly as the Doman warriors had intended, Leo was sure. This Garamonde leader was a shrewd one.

_Good. As long as we keep destroying the places they attack from, they'll have less room to maneuver for future ambushes. Another week of this, and they'll be out of places to hide. It's a shame we have to scorch this beautiful countryside, but it's better than taking lives._

"General, glad you made it!" It was Percival, the Magitek R&D officer. "What are your orders, sir? I've already sent out flamethrowers to cut off this new ambush point, just like last time."

Leo covered his eyes from the blinding sunlight as he looked across the small valley where his soldiers were engaged with the enemy. The hillside they had erupted from without warning was a wall of flames, and Leo knew the Domans had to be aware of their hopeless situation. They were trapped in the valley now, and if Leo wished it, his men could slaughter the brave, but foolish Doman warriors with little effort.

_No, this new leader of theirs is smarter than that. Something is wrong here. But what?_

"Keep an eye on that hillside, Percival, and keep the remainder of our troops up here."

"But sir, we've razed it to the bedrock. There's nothing there to hide in now."

"It seems that way, doesn't it?" Leo said, thinking to himself. "Just watch that hillside, and let me know if anything, anything at all, happens over there. Understood?"

"Yes, sir! But what about you?"

"I'm going to have a look around. Something is not right here. This is too easy, too predictable. Hold that line in the valley, but do not deploy any Armor until I order it."

"Yes, sir..." Percival said glumly. He was hoping this would be the battle to show the might of Magitek energy to the Domans.

Leo walked carefully around the western edge of the base, his keen eyes on the surrounding areas.

_Now, where would the next place to attack be?_

"General Leo, look!"

Leo's eyes darted to where the officer next to him, Galahad, had pointed. Sure enough, another group of Domans was emerging from a second hidden location. This time, it was a large outcropping of rocks, the result of a recent landslide. Leo was beginning to suspect that landslide was no accident, and had been set off purposely in advance to create the next stage of the ambushes.

_Clever, Garamonde. _

Leo ordered Galahad's regiment to meet the second wave of Domans, and once again reminded his officer not to deploy the Armor. Not yet.

_Now then, is that all?_

Leo continued his leisurely stroll around the edge of the base, peering into the distance for anything out of place. He was convinced the surprises were not quite done yet.

_I'd better return to Percival. I have a feeling something is about to happen back on that hillside._

By the time Leo had returned to the initial surprise attack, things were looking grim in the small valley. Apparently, the leader of the Doman warriors had made an appearance while Leo was away, and decimated the troops.

"General, thank god you're back!" Percival said, holding the side of his arm tightly. He had been forced to join the fray himself, and had been wounded badly by the leader of the Domans. "As soon as you left, that Garamonde showed his face, and began cutting through our troops like wheat! I tried to stop him, but I was no match for his blade. I am sorry, sir..."

Leo couldn't help but smile, despite the injured officer and the worsening situation down in the valley. "Where did he come from?"

"Just as you predicted, from the hillside. He must have been hiding out of sight, waiting until you were gone to attack. There must have been a hidden cave or fissure we missed. He just appeared out of thin air, like a demon!"

Leo peered down into the valley, and caught a glimpse of shining blue armor turning and spinning through his defenseless troops faster than his eyes could follow.

_That would be our Garamonde. Such fine swordsmanship! I would like to cross blades with him someday. Christophe against Garamonde - Scion against Masamune. Which family's warrior blood flows the strongest? Which legendary blade is the keenest? Ah, this is why I became a soldier!_

Leo took a step down towards the path into the valley, sorely tempted to join the clash despite being a general whose place was safely away from the battlefield. Before he could take more than a few steps, he was stopped cold by an unexpected and unwelcome sight.

As quickly as the Domans had gained the upper-hand, now they were being routed back against the stone walls. Someone had disobeyed his direct orders, and sent a single Magitek Armor into the valley. Just one of those mechanical monstrosities was enough to wipe out an entire regiment at full power.

"Who sent that thing in there?" Leo roared, looking directly at Percival. The fire in his eyes wilted the officer like a dying flower.

"I'm sorry, sir!" Percival whimpered. "It looked like we had no choice! Our entire regiment was being taken out by that man, I had to do something!"

Leo was furious, and as he watched the multi-colored beams of Magitek energy blast out from the hulking Armor, he grew even madder. What was left of the Doman strike force was huddled at the end of the valley in a tight knot, shields raised in a dome of metal to defend against the undefendable. The only warrior still standing outside the barrier of shields was their leader, his blue armor dented and blood-soaked and his shield cleaved in two, but his spirit stronger than ever.

"Stop that pilot at once! You've proven your point, and shown the Domans our power quite brilliantly. This will not be a massacre!"

Leo's voice was as piercing as a blast from the Magitek Armor, and it sent Percival running to the messenger to deliver the order to cease fire at once. While Leo fumed over his officer's disobedience, he watched the lone warrior of Doma stand his ground against the Armor.

It was a curious sight, watching the tiny man face off against the mountain of metal slowly clanking towards him, its metal claws clacking together dangerously. The machine must have been ten times his size, but he stared it down the same way he would a normal soldier. Surely he wasn't going to attempt to fight it? No matter how strong this Garamonde was, he was no match for an Imperial Magitek Armor alone.

_Amazing. Absolutely fearless. That man is the perfect warrior, no doubt about it. We must have a match someday. Unless he gets himself killed in this foolish act of bravado. Hurry, Percival..._

But Percival's order never made it to the pilot of the Magitek Armor. As Leo watched in silent awe, the man lunged at the wall of steel, dodging its beam attacks like a dancer. His lightning fast sword first sliced one claw off, then the other. As he spiraled around the vehicle, he delivered a third strike to the beam cannon's barrel, slicing it off neatly. Without claws or beams, the machine was nothing more than a giant suit of armor.

Before the pilot could react or eject, the man was behind the Armor and climbing its back. With a laugh the man delivered a fourth powerful blow to the cockpit, shattering the controls, and cleaving the poor pilot's helmet in two. His job done, the man nimbly jumped back down and crossed his arms with a smile, waiting to see what the pilot would do next.

Bereft of armor and helm, the pilot leapt from the devastated cockpit and ran as fast as he could away from his humiliating defeat. The battle was over in the span of a few seconds. As soon as Percival's messenger saw the carnage, he turned tail and fled back up the rock wall to safety alongside the pilot.

_Unbelievable. The man really did it. Even my Shock technique would have been hard-pressed to finish off a Magitek Armor that easily. This man is a Garamonde through and through. If he weren't my enemy, he would surely be my friend._

The splendid performance by the master swordsman helped to quell Leo's mood. By the time Percival returned, the general was beaming, despite being on the losing end of the battle.

"I'm sorry sir...I never expected that man to win! It was impossible the way he moved!"

Leo only smiled. "Well, Percival, I guess we showed Doma just what our Magitek Armor was made of, literally!" He laughed, then added, "The cost of that Armor will be taken out of your pay, understood?"

Percival paled, but saluted his general. "Yes, sir."

_100,000 gil per Armor...that's an entire year's pay! _Percival thought as he shamefully excused himself from the battlefield.

Leo watched the remaining Doman warriors regroup and try to finish their attack, despite heavy casualties. The Garamonde was nowhere to be seen.

_I would guess that little battle exhausted the man more than it would appear. He won't be back for a repeat performance today, I think. He knows he's a target now, and I doubt he could take out a group of Armors, even with his skill..._

But his victory had given renewed strength to the surviving Domans, and they were pressing forward again, hoping to finally breach the walls of the base. All the remaining Imperial soldiers had fled when the Magitek Armor arrived, assuming the battle was as good as won.

_Not today, my proud warriors. There is still one Imperial soldier left to face._

Leo quickly made his way down the rocky path into the valley to head off the invaders before they reached the base. The mass of Domans saw the general stop in front them, but showed no signs of slowing down. He was just one man, after all.

"Noble Domans! Hear me!" Leo called out as he stood his ground at the other end of the valley. "You have fought well today, but this is where the battle ends. Turn around and go back to your castle, and no harm will come to you!"

Several soldiers laughed, and none ceased their march forward.

Leo drew his glittering sword and took up a battle stance as the group of men approached his position. "This is your last warning, Domans! Before you stands General Leo Christophe, and I will not let you pass!"

Now the soldiers stopped laughing. The name of Christophe was as feared to the Domans as Garamonde was to the Imperial troops. But they did not stop. They had been trained by the best, and were the finest warriors Doma could produce. Even if they knew they were facing certain defeat, they would not surrender and would not run.

"Very well," Leo said calmly, pointing his sword directly at the oncoming line of warriors. With a flash of crystal light Leo swung his sword blindingly fast in the practiced motions of the ancient Shock technique. His sword drew an arc in the air over his head, and for a brief moment, nothing moved. Time seemed to stop while the latent energies of the Scion built up in the air around its wielder.

Just as the men thought they were safe, the super-charged air exploded around them, sending up a roaring inferno of light from which nothing could escape. The blast shook both the earth and atmosphere around the trapped men, flattening them like toy soldiers all at once. When the wall of light subsided, the entire regiment lay on the ground, unconscious and beaten senseless by the fury of the Scion.

"This is the real enemy you face, proud warriors. Remember it."

Leo sheathed his sword reverently, and left the battlefield. By the time he reached the top of the valley, Galahad had returned to report victory over the second wave of Domans.

"And you did not use Magitek Armor?" Leo asked sternly.

"No, sir. It was a close call, but we managed to fend them off with the remainder of the troops that survived the first wave here." Galahad took a brief glance down into the valley, where the shocked Domans were just beginning to gather themselves up. "What happened over here?"

"Something that shouldn't have. Thank you, Galahad, for obeying my wishes." Leo patted the surprised officer on the shoulder, and walked away from the valley, twice as exhausted as when he first arrived. The sun was setting, and Leo hoped he could make it back to his tent without being interrupted this time.

It was almost dark when Leo saw his humble tent waiting for him at the other end of the base camp. As he continued his slow walk to his waiting hammock, he heard the familiar call of duty behind him. He sighed, but when he turned to face the soldier, he was smiling that same smile.

"General Leo, before you go, I have one last requisition to be filled!" It was Kay again, from the beginning of the day.

"Of course." Leo said happily, taking the paper from the soldier and signing it quickly. It was a simple thing - more food for the dogs. "There you go."

"Thank you sir, every little thing counts!" Kay smiled nervously and saluted.

Leo smiled at the man's attention to detail. "You're absolutely right. Say, how would you like to join me for a quick drink before we put in for the night?"

Kay's nervous smile faltered, but he remained at attention. "I-I couldn't sir...it wouldn't be proper..."

"Nonsense!" Leo said quickly, before the man could run off. "I insist. Right now. Don't make me give you an order!" Leo laughed, and the nervous subordinate laughed despite himself.

"O-okay, I guess it's alright, since I'm technically off duty now anyways."

"Excellent!" Leo clapped one of his hands on the soldier's shoulder, and the two went inside his small tent.

As Leo poured some of his personal stock of Gabbiani wine for the two of them, he talked about the day to the bewildered youth. He hit a note when he began talking about the dogs, which were a shared interest between them.

For a while, Leo wasn't alone anymore. He knew the soldier would never be a true friend because of his position, but it was close enough for now. They talked and laughed, sharing stories about home and about the beauty of the rolling fields of Doma. The soldier even opened up enough to make a few jokes about Kefka, which pleased Leo despite his better judgment. Proper soldiers didn't mock their fellow comrades, but with Kefka, Leo was willing to make an exception.

As the night wore on, the soldier yawned and excused himself, thanking his general for the drinks and the conversation. "And sir, please don't tell the other soldiers about this. I don't want them to think I'm sucking up or anything."

Leo laughed at the idea of playing favorites. "Kay, if I could I would ask every officer, soldier, worker, and cook to join me for a drink every night. My door is always open to anyone who wants see me."

"Of course, sir." Kay said, the barrier of rank slowly rearing its ugly head again as he realized where he was and who he was talking to.

Leo saw it, and sighed inwardly. "You're excused, Kay. Good night, and thank you."

"Yes, sir!" Kay smiled and left the tent.

Alone again, Leo took off his general's coat and hung it carefully on its hook. He climbed into his hammock and snuffed out the lamp. It was late now, almost midnight. There had been a few hiccups today, but overall, he was happy. He had taken a small step towards breaking down that wretched wall of deference that separated him from his men, and perhaps word would get around that he wasn't such an unapproachable person. Perhaps someday when war was a thing of the past he could throw away that general's coat, and just be plain old Leo, a man, nothing more. Someday...

Leo closed his eyes, preparing to rest for hopefully a few hours without being disturbed.

In a moment he was asleep. But only for a moment.

"General Leo!"


	14. The Last Day

**~Kefka~**

"General Kefka, sir!"

_Too early. Kill him._

"Too early...go away!" The sleeping general said waspishly from his large bed.

The soldier stepped cautiously into the private quarters of his commanding officer, who was making no attempt rise from his luxurious surroundings. It was almost noon. This was the worst part of his job - delivering the morning reports to Kefka.

"Sir, I have a fresh report from Tzen!"

_Kill him, kill him, kill him!_

Kefka poked his head out from the thick, brightly patterned covers of his bed. Without the gaudy make-up to reduce the seriousness of the murderous intent his features usually wore, it was an even more frightening sight. Right now, the only thing keeping the soldier alive was the fact that Kefka did not want to get out of bed.

"Why are you still here?" Kefka groaned, turning under his covers to look into one of the many tall mirrors placed around his room.

The soldier stepped back into the doorway, but did not leave. He had his orders, and knew if he left without giving the report, Kefka would just kill him later for that. It would not be the first time.

"S-Sir!" The solider stuttered, trying with all his might to do the relatively simple task of delivering a report. "Our forces in Tzen will be ready to depart for South Figaro in less than a week. Your private ship will be ready tomorrow ...And, your man has returned from Miranda with General Celes. W-what are your orders?"

_Who cares about these trivialities? Just kill him and go back to that lovely, bloody dream we were having._

Kefka ignored the soldier, and continued studying his face in the closest mirror. He picked at his teeth with one spindly finger as he tapped a daub of white paint onto another finger. While he greased his disheveled blonde hair back and painted his face, he hummed something, out of tune. When he was done preparing himself, he plucked a long white tail feather from the small, stuffed white chocobo next to his bed and stuck it behind his ear. A rarity, the white chocobo. It had been fun hunting it down.

_You look perfect. Now, do something about that annoying grunt._

"I'll worry about Tzen when I get there," Kefka spoke through a yawn. "Where are my robes?"

Kefka rolled out of his bed and onto the floor feet-first, exposing his startlingly pale flesh to the cool air of his room. His body was thin and sickly-looking for a man of such high rank in the Imperial army, but he was stronger than he looked. That much everyone knew. He was a Magitek Knight, after all.

And a cold-blooded killer. Everyone knew that, as well.

_Hurry up and get rid of this pest! You know this day is an important one._

"Hurry up and dress me, you fool!"

The soldier ran to the other side of the room and grabbed the lush, green robes from Kefka's wardrobe. On the way he tripped over various scattered odds and ends. Dolls, dismembered toy soldiers, broken mirrors, and various other artifacts of childhood that were absurdly out of place in a general's room lay everywhere. The soldier said nothing, and just grabbed the clothes and ran back to the impatient Kefka.

As the soldier rushed to put the robes onto Kefka's back, he felt a stab of icy pain. Looking down, he saw a rose of blood blossoming out from his left side. A shard of ice like a spear was sticking out from his body. He collapsed just as the robe fell into place on Kefka's bony shoulders.

_Yes, yes, yes! A beautiful start to this glorious day. Now we are ready to begin._

"Don't ever approach me from my back. I don't like being snuck up on." Kefka's voice was calm and his face beaming as he watched the unlucky soldier struggle to breathe, his lung pierced by the quickly melting spear of ice.

The last thing the soldier heard as his consciousness faded was Kefka's high-pitched, maniacal laugh just above him. How could he have forgotten such a simple rule? Too late now. Too, too late...

Kefka stopped laughing abruptly and stepped over the soldier's body to examine himself in one of his many mirrors. The act of murder he had just committed was already forgotten amidst the flurry of thoughts in his twisted mind. Yes, this was an important day, the last day of waiting! Today was the launching of his much-anticipated secret mission to Narshe.

_Another Esper to add to the collection awaits us there. My men alone will find it and bring it back to Gestahl, and maybe extract a little magic essence from it along the way. You can never have too much power. _

Kefka smiled broadly as he looked at himself in the mirror and continued dressing. One more final touch and he would be ready. His smile widened to show sharp feral teeth gleaming in a deep red mouth as he turned back to the dying soldier. Blood was spurting onto the floor around him, staining the various oddities that lay there, but Kefka didn't seem to mind. Someone would clean everything before he returned, as they always did.

Kneeling down like a child peering into a lake at his own reflection, Kefka looked at his face in the glistening pool of blood and saw what he was missing. One long finger dipped into the blood and twirled around, soaking up as much red as it could. He streaked the bloodied finger in a vertical line below one eye, then the other, leaving a dot below each streak. With a last flourish, he touched his fingertip to his lips and puckered, savoring the familiar flavor of death. Now he was done.

"You there! Get in here and clean this mess up!" Kefka shouted to no one, but he knew there was a second soldier waiting outside. There always was, just for these kinds of "accidents."

Within a second, another soldier rushed into the room, his eyes hidden and face averted. He knew what had happened, and knew that now he would have to be the one to deliver tomorrow's report. Such was life under the command of a madman.

_Just one more day! _the soldier thought, sadly. _If he had lasted just one more day, Kefka would be gone for Tzen, then Doma, and I'd be safe! Curse my rotten luck! _

The soldier tried to remain calm, quiet and unobtrusive as he dragged his comrade's body out of the crazily decorated room and out of his general's sight. Just one more day!

_Where are our pets? We have much to discuss today!_

Kefka marched haughtily down the hallway from his room, his head held high and his mind elsewhere. Passing soldiers and scientists dodged out of his way like he was a stampeding bull. No one said a word to the general, and Kefka remained oblivious to the meaningless people around him.

His first order of business was greeting his fellow general, fresh from the blockade at Miranda. Celes had been busy, spreading all sorts of anti-war and anti-Kefka sentiment down south, and Kefka could not have that. The _Emperor_ could not have that.

Whatever Kefka did, he knew the Emperor would allow it, and rarely even consulted the old bag of wind anymore. The two had a mutual understanding about Kefka's antics. As long as Kefka got results, it didn't matter how he did it, or who he had to get rid of along the way. Even General Celes wasn't immune to Kefka's wrath, and the sooner she learned this, the better.

_She must die. All who stand in our path must be destroyed! Destroy, destroy, destroy!_

"Uweehee! This will be fun!"

Kefka was in high spirits when he reached his private meeting room, deep in the bowels of the Vector Imperial Palace. The room was its usual clutter of papers and books, food and drink. As per his standing orders, there was always a sumptuous meal waiting for him upon arrival. Killing so early in the morning always made him hungry.

If only he knew how to fill that hunger.

_Destruction is all we need. Must destroy more! More, more, more!_

Kefka was alone in his meeting room as he scribbled out the first orders of the day. There was no consulting with the fellow officers here, no strategies for the coming war, no trivial talk with the worthless rabble that filled the Imperial forces. Kefka's orders were his alone, and he was obeyed, or else. Fear was the greatest power of all, and it was Kefka's weapon of choice.

_We will show them all true fear. Fear will rule this world, and we will be its absolute wielder!_

The lone soldier outside the room waited patiently while Kefka scribbled and muttered, laughed and cursed. The soldier's name was Biggs, and he knew not to disturb the mad general while he "worked." Biggs would wait outside the door all day if that was required.

Besides, he did not relish the completion of his task. He had just returned from Miranda with General Celes within the three days Kefka had ordered. The famous General of Snow had been expecting his arrival, apparently, and had made no attempt to argue with Kefka's orders. She surely knew what kind of man she was dealing with, but seemed remarkably calm as Biggs told her his orders. The hardened soldier had seen that look before, in the eyes of the condemned who were ready to die. Biggs was not a praying man, but in the face of a devil like Kefka, he couldn't help but say a few words for an angel like General Celes.

Finally, Kefka emerged from the room and barked an order to Biggs. It was time for his "interview" with his fellow general. The impossibly cruel smile on his face said all Biggs needed to know about the poor woman's fate. As he ushered the somber woman into the stuffy room, she quietly thanked him, and wished him well. She surely knew she may die today, but she also was acutely aware that the wretched soldier next to her might very well die by that same hand today as well. The two briefly shared a gallows' glance, and went their separate ways.

_Kill her._

"Ah, General Celes. How nice of you to join me for my morning meal." Kefka was as polite as could be, and even offered the silent woman a hank of well-cooked wyvern meat. If she had known how this meat was acquired, she would have been appalled. As such, she still refused any food or drink from her would-be interrogator. She had no hunger for this man's food.

_She will bow before us! And we will slice that pretty head right off her pretty shoulders!_

Kefka made no sign that he cared one way or the other what Celes said or did, and tore a large chunk of blackened meat off the massive wing-bone in front of him, chewing loudly and messily.

"Delicious," Kefka said, smacking his blood-soaked lips. "I will have to pay the cook a compliment later, ha!"

Celes remained silent. She would let Kefka do all the talking here. She had said everything she wanted to say in Miranda, and she knew the rest of the Empire had heard her.

"So. I have heard disturbing rumors that you are unhappy with this war, and especially with the way I have been conducting my end of it." Kefka looked at her with wide, too-bright eyes, eager to snap her up if she made one wrong move.

_Go on! Tell us you hate us! Stoke our appetite for your death, and see what you get!_

Celes looked straight into the madman's glowing eyes, matching will for stubborn will. She would not beg for mercy, nor would she admit she did anything wrong. She would say nothing.

_We will make you squeal! We will make you scream!_

"Nothing to say?" Kefka's voice was still polite, but his eyes were wavering with barely contained hostility. "Fine. Then I will tell you what is going to happen here, _general_."

Kefka stood up from his meal and walked slowly around his room, circling Celes like a vulture. "You have made your desire to end this war immediately quite clear. You have also made your desire to see me locked up as a war criminal perfectly clear. You even went so far as to begin removing your troops from Miranda...without the Emperor's orders." Kefka stopped and smiled wider at his captive. "I assure you that I put a stop to that presumptuous order, and have since doubled the troops stationed in Miranda, using my own personal favorite soldiers."

"What?" Celes said despite herself. She did not know anything about this.

Kefka laughed gleefully as he toyed with his plaything. "Ohoho! You thought you could be everyone's darling Snow Angel, and the people would love you for it, am I right?" Kefka's smile vanished. "Wrong. My soldiers will destroy whatever hope you gave those filthy Mirandans, and they will do it in your name. You will be hated, feared, reviled." Kefka's smile returned with a vengeance. "Just like me! Isn't it grand! Uwahaha!"

_Hate, hate, hate, hate! It makes the world go round!_

Kefka nearly fell over in a fit at his own cleverness. Celes's snow white skin went a shade paler.

"You demon...," she said through clenched teeth. It was all she could do not to lash out at the lunatic and end his reign of terror right here in his own quarters. She may die, but she would take this monster with her.

Kefka must have seen the look of murder in Celes's eyes, for he recovered himself and looked at her kindly, like a brother in arms.

_We know that look, don't we? So it would seem the General of Snow has some fire in her after all. We will destroy you, but first we will break you. The only thing more satisfying than the death of the body is the death of the spirit._

"You came here thinking you would die a martyr's death, the lone hero who stood up against the evil Empire. You were wrong. You will not die today." Kefka smiled beneficently, and pointed his finger rudely in Celes's face. "You will live to see the world hate you. You will watch as MY army covers this world and rules with an iron fist of fear. You have no hope, _general._"

Celes was shaking with fury, but would not let this man have the satisfaction of subduing her by violence. She knew he could win in a battle between Magitek Knights, simply because he would not hold back or show even the smallest sliver of mercy or human restraint. Without a sword, her Runic technique was useless, and Kefka was the more powerful mage.

While she had feared her own power, Kefka had embraced it, let it flow into him and control him from the start. Sometimes she wondered just how much the foreign energy controlled Kefka's actions. How much of Kefka's inhumanity was not his own doing? She had no memory of the man he was before his own infusion of magical energy, being only an infant at the time. She had heard rumors that he had been cruel, power-hungry, and self-absorbed, but not insane. Just...unpleasant. Would she turn into another Kefka if she kept using the power of Magitek?

"What are you going to do with me, then?" Her voice was suddenly tired. She had come here expecting to die a hero, and once again she had become a villain. The old despair and self-loathing crept back into her soul as she stared into the eyes of her oppressor.

_We are going to destroy you, utterly. And there is nothing you can do about it._

"Do?" Kefka mimicked in his screechy voice. "For starters, I am going to strip you of your rank. You're an ex-general now, mon Chere."

"Only the Emperor can do that!" Celes blurted out. She was shocked, and hurt. She may have despised the Empire and this war, but she took great pride in her status as a high-ranking female general among a mostly male command structure. Kefka knew how to cause pain both gross and subtle.

"A mere formality, I assure you!" Kefka chuckled. "As soon as I tell the Emperor that you were planning to lead your Mirandan forces against us here in Vector, he'll be calling for your head as a traitor. My word's good as gold with the old man, as I'm sure you know."

"You're insane," Celes snarled, feeling an icy cold grip her heart. Was it fear, or anger? "You'll never win this war without me, and you certainly won't win it against me."

_We don't need you! We don't need anyone or anything! We are power!_

"I don't need you or anybody else to win this war," Kefka snarled back. "All I need is the magical power of the Espers, and the fear that power spreads, and all I desire will be mine."

"And what is it you desire, Kefka?" Celes was genuinely curious. What does the lunatic howl for?

_We desire everything, and nothing! Whatever feeds our appetite for destruction. As long as this hunger exists, we will continue to destroy._

"That's for me to know and you to find out. The hard way." Kefka said with a smirk that did not reach his eyes.

"You're a child," Celes replied softly. She could read the uncertainty in his face. This man-child had no idea what he wanted, and just flailed about in the darkness of his own soul hoping to find something meaningful. When he came back up empty-handed, his only response was to take that frustration out on others, the world itself. For the first time, Celes felt a small pang of pity for this fool who would be king, of nothing.

"You act big, but if you ever came up against a force you couldn't control or intimidate, you wouldn't know what to do."

_Destroy you...we will destroy you!_

Kefka recoiled as if slapped, whether in exaggerated jest, or because she had actually stung him, Celes couldn't be sure.

"There is no force greater than fear," Kefka snapped. "As long as I have this power," Kefka conjured a deadly blade of ice at his fingertips, pointing it directly at Celes's heart, "people will fear me. By the time this war is over I will be the most powerful force in this world." The frozen dagger pricked Celes gently. "You are the only one who could even hope to stand against me, and I am seeing to it that you never have the chance."

"You're not worth the effort," Celes said calmly, pushing the blade of ice back with her bare hands. "Others will follow my lead, even if I am vilified. This war can not last, and neither can your empire of fear. The people of the world won't stand for it. We're not all insane like you."

_Enough. Get rid of this impudent brat and her idle dreams. Her hope will die with her in obscurity!_

"The people are fools, and are worth less than nothing, and you have said quite enough." Kefka yawned loudly. "Now then! You're boring me, ex-general. It's time I shipped you off to your next post. An iron post! Uweeheehee!"

Celes moved to resist, but she felt a powerful grip on her arms from behind, wrenching them backwards.

"You, soldiers! Restrain this self-professed traitor of the Empire and lock her away in the hold of my private ship." Celes felt cold steel on her arms, and knew there was nothing more she could do. She had missed her chance to end this war right here and now, letting herself be goaded by Kefka.

"She will accompany me while I finish the next phase of the war in the north. I will show her first-hand how futile her little resistance really is."

The trio of brutish soldiers, different from the kinder one who had brought her in, dragged her out of Kefka's study and to an uncertain fate on unknown shores. She had failed after all. In the end, her defiance was less than useless. Miranda would suffer because of her actions, and she would be forgotten as a traitor in some foreign dungeon. Despair wracked Celes as she was led away. But she held her head up high, and did not shed a single tear for her miserable fate. She would not give Kefka that satisfaction. She was still a soldier, and had a soldier's pride.

Kefka watched his former comrade fade down the dreary hallway and out of his sight. He was neither happy nor sad at her downfall. He had destroyed another innocent life, and felt nothing more than a gnawing hunger to finish his meal. He would simply have to try harder next time.

_We will crush all who oppose our plans. There will be others, and they will fall all the harder the next time. _

Kefka finished his grotesque meal of roasted wyvern and belched. He still felt empty. Celes's stubborn refusal to show him the fear he knew she must have been drowning in frustrated him. A plaything that wouldn't play back was no fun. He needed someone he could enrage, someone he could control, mind and body.

_Yes, yes, yes! We must prepare our pet for tomorrow's mission! One last inspection before she leaves for Narshe._

Kefka grinned at the thought of another session with his favorite plaything. Ever since she had reached adolescence, she had been so much more interesting. Such wild emotions flaring up inside that shell! The slave crown made it almost too easy to manipulate her, but she was far too dangerous otherwise.

Perhaps after a few more Esper infusions Kefka could match her power, and the slave crown would no longer be needed. The worn out husks they had bottled up in the facility were growing less useful by the day. This fresh new Esper discovered frozen deep in the Narshe coal mines might be just the rejuvenating power he needed to bring this interminable war to a head. The constant back and forth sallies the Emperor indulged in bored Kefka to tears. A decisive strike to obliterate any hope of resistance was needed now, and Kefka was convinced this new Esper would give him that power.

_More power. We must always seek more power. More power is more control, more fear, more destruction! Destroy, destroy, destroy!_

Kefka hummed to himself pleasantly as he marched down the dim halls of the Imperial Palace, dreaming of the wonderful Empire of Kefka he would someday create. An "empire of fear" the traitor had called it. Yes, he liked the sound of that. For now, Gestahl's Empire would have to do. Until he gained more power.

_Even the gods themselves will tremble at our power soon!_

"Kefka, sir!"

Kefka was jarred out of his crimson reverie by the all too familiar whine of a soldier in need.

"What is it? Can't you see I'm busy?"

The young soldier standing at attention in front of him was too new to know how unstable Kefka was, and was eager to give the general his news. The look Kefka gave him at being interrupted visibly shocked him.

"I...I'm sorry sir...," The soldier faltered, but pressed on with his message courageously. "I just wanted to let you know General Leo received your letter, and we just received his response."

_Another peace-lover like the traitor. We'll crush him just like her soon enough._

"Go on."

"He says he is grateful for your offer of assistance, but it is not needed at this time. What should I tell him?"

Kefka laughed uproariously at the oblivious newbie. "Tell him? I've got better things to do than play pen pal with Leo! Once I'm done with South Figaro, I'm heading to Doma to finish the mess Leo started whether he 'needs' it or not. Don't tell him anything. I'll tell him myself when I get there."

"But sir! The Emperor hasn't officially signed off on your plan yet!"

"Who cares!" Kefka shouted impatiently. "Once he sees the results, he'll have no choice but to let me have my way. Let Leo cry all he wants."

The soldier was left speechless by his general's audacity. He was getting a crash course in Kefka 101 today.

Kefka lunged at the soldier while he was trying to respond to his general's outburst. "Get out of my way! I have nothing more to tell you, so scram!"

The youth let out a yelp and ran down the nearest hallway.

"Idiots." Kefka laughed happily as his subordinate fled.

Kefka did not need the Emperor's approval for his actions. He did what he pleased, and the Emperor always turned a blind eye. As long as Kefka kept bringing him ridiculously lopsided victories in the name of his precious Empire, the old man didn't care what he did. In fact, the Emperor had not made any plans to remove Leo, despite his impatience with the Doman front. Kefka had forged a few of the letters claiming his right to take charge there, and would probably forge a few more before all was said and done. Wouldn't it be nice if Leo was unexpectedly called away by his Emperor just as Kefka arrived to save the day and take all the glory himself? Yes, it would be quite nice.

_This war is ours to control. Gestahl is old and weak. We are still vibrant and powerful, and growing more powerful every day. Let the good soldiers think there is honor in this "war of peace" all they want. We know the truth. We ARE the truth._

"Uweeheehee! War is so much fun!" Kefka laughed all the way down the hallway and continued laughing as he strode out of the palace and into the open, stale air of Vector. He was still laughing as he passed the pen where the trained armored dogs known as Fidors were pacing restively. Despite being as large as horses and built like tanks, they cowered as the strange man passed. He had played more than a few tricks on the hapless beasts in the past, and they knew the freezing touch of his hand well.

Kefka passed the pen where the Vector attack hounds were kept, and continued onwards past the training ground for the soldiers, and finally to the testing ground for the Magitek armors, where his pet was still sleeping. Man or beast, all shrank back from the laughing man as he passed. Even the mysterious girl still unconscious in her small room at the center of the testing ground winced in her sleep at the sound of fanatic's voice.

_Fear us! Yes, we feel all that fear, and it feels wonderful! Fear is power!_

As Kefka happily approached the place where his pet slept, he was interrupted once again by two vaguely familiar soldiers. He scowled at them, but they stayed where they were. Apparently he was supposed to know why they were standing there like a pair of buffoons.

It was Biggs again, with another soldier named Wedge beside him. They both looked anxious. "We're reporting for the special mission you assigned to us the other day, sir!"

_Failures. Kill them, slowly._

Kefka remembered the two pitiful grunts now, and their miserable failure at recapturing the Mirandan deserter. What were their names, again?

"You, Vicks, and...uh, whoever. Yes, a special mission. Very special! You will be overseeing a top secret raid on the coal mining town of Narshe. Reports confirm a frozen Esper has been discovered there. I want the two of you to accompany my little pet there and see if you can't bring that thing back here. Alive, understand? A dead Esper is no good to me."

"A live Esper, just the two of us? How are we supposed to take on a live Esper?" Biggs said, then grimaced at his stupidity. Did he really just speak to General Kefka like that?

_KILL KILL KILL!_

Kefka shot him a look that would have made a younger soldier faint. But he did not strike out, as badly as he wanted to. These two men had one more purpose to serve. He trusted his pet to carry out the mission by herself just fine, but two more disposable bodies to make sure she didn't get out of control wouldn't hurt. And if she did lose control? Nothing of value would be lost, and he would come along to take back his pet...and whatever pieces were left of the two grunts in front of him.

"Take that tone with me again, and I'll rip your tongue out of your mouth!" Kefka snapped ferociously. "Now, shut up and listen to me."

Both soldiers snapped taut at Kefka's rebuke, wondering when the deathblow would come. Surely it wouldn't be long now. They were lucky to survive their previous failed mission, and they doubted Kefka's patience would hold out a second time.

"You won't be alone," Kefka continued. "Like I said, you will be accompanied by my pet over there. I'm sure you've heard about her. She is more than a match for any half-frozen Esper. If things get hairy, just let her go wild. She'll do whatever you say as long as she wears that slave crown. Just remember to turn her off when you're done, heehee."

The soldiers had heard rumors about the green-haired witch Kefka was grooming. Unsettling rumors. Kefka claimed to have complete control over her, but who knew for sure? One thing they both knew - they had no choice anymore. Either Kefka would kill them here, or he would have his pet do it later.

"Yes, sir." They both saluted mechanically. So this was to be their fate. Perhaps if they were very lucky, they could manage to escape this trap yet.

"One more thing," Kefka spoke up as he reached the door to the girl's room. "There is a giant whelk called Ymir that the Narshe miners have bred to guard the mine from unwanted prospectors. It's slow, but powerful. Don't act stupid around it or you'll get fried, even with the Magitek Armor. If you value your worthless lives, make sure you ask for our intelligence reports on it before you suit up. I don't have time to give you the specifics now."

As Kefka spoke, he turned the lights on in the small room and pressed a small button beside the door. The sleeping girl was released from the restraints that kept her subdued while she slept, but did not wake.

"Good morning, Terra."

At the sound of those words and Kefka's voice, the girl's eyes slowly opened. There was no sign of understanding in them. Just dull acceptance.

"Now, my pet, say hello to these two fine men beside me. You're going to be traveling with them for a while, and you will do everything they say. Understand?" Kefka's voice was sickeningly sweet as he carefully looked over the slave crown on her head. There was no time for any outbursts like the other day, as enjoyable as the experience had been.

The girl stood at attention like a soldier, but did not speak. She merely nodded her head dumbly like a puppet on a string.

"Good!" Kefka cackled. "The three of you will be leaving for Narshe as soon as possible. I will be following you in a few days, so don't think you can just run away with such a valuable weapon. I will find you no matter where you go with her. The slave crown also has a homing beacon built in. Remember that."

"Yes, sir."

"Enough talk. I want you to take the girl and meet Cid immediately. You will make your preparations with him at the facility, and will be suited up and ready to depart in three hours. I will be watching your send-off personally, so don't screw this one up like you did the last mission!"

"Yes, sir." Biggs and Wedge looked at their strange companion as she awkwardly moved towards them. Both men were surprised at how young, and beautiful, she was. What had Kefka done to turn her into this...thing? Orders were orders, though, and they wasted no time in leaving Kefka's presence with the subservient girl in tow.

"Behave yourself, my dear!" Kefka cooed after them, breaking into laughter again. Things were finally beginning to move now. Tomorrow would be the beginning of a magnificent adventure, and he couldn't wait for the carnage that he knew was coming.

_Destruction is inevitable. It is inevitable because we will make sure it happens, no matter what. We will destroy everything! The gods will tremble!_

Kefka often wondered just what the gods would say to his plans. How far could a mortal reach before his hand was slapped down by the powers that be? That there were gods above, Kefka was sure. Just how much of creation would they let him destroy in his quest for power? He intended to find out.

Kefka had never been a faithful man to say the least, but ever since his Magitek infusion, he had felt deep, deep down something greater than himself stirring in the back of his mind. He had no name for it, wasn't even aware of it most of the time, but he felt an otherworldly presence in him every so often, urging him on, calling him forwards into his grand destiny. If there were gods, they were gods of destruction and hatred, kindred spirits, and he would seek them out.

_Yes, find them. With their power, we would be as gods ourselves. Then nothing in heaven or earth could deny our rage! The gods will tremble!_

There was another interesting facet to Kefka's numinous feelings. The captured Espers agreed with him. Cid had said the feeling was just a side effect of having the magical essence of the drained Espers forced into him prematurely, but the Espers told a different story. He had managed to coax bits and pieces of their long history out of them while he tortured them. What they cried out as he offered them false hope of freedom was positively mouth-watering.

Perhaps there was time for a quick stop at the Esper storage tanks before he saw his mission off. The storage site was on the way to the staging area for the Armors, and he still had much he wanted to learn while he was here. He would grab a quick lunch, and then have a little chat with the Espers.

There was one Esper in particular he wanted to speak with before he left for Tzen tomorrow. This Esper had been the easiest to manipulate, since this Esper happened to be the father of his precious pet. One mention of the name Terra, and the Esper was ready to burst from his tank, wires and all.

"Hello, Maduin."

Kefka pranced in front of the massive holding tanks inside the Magitek Research Facility. So many strange creatures, straight out of legend! A flying whale, a unicorn, a great boar with a single stony eye, a glowing blue fox with a red stone lodged in its forehead, a transparent form that could very well be a ghost...these were just a few of the specimens the Emperor had brought back from the other world where raw magic still existed.

And then there was Maduin, and his half-human daughter, Terra. The Esper was a hideous scaled giant with horns, fangs and claws, and yet had somehow produced a delicate and perfectly human-looking little girl. But that monster's boundless destructive power still dwelt in his offspring, as Kefka had seen countless times.

An indomitable Esper warlord and his hybrid daughter - these were the two prize samples, treasured above all else. Of all the Espers, Maduin alone still had enough energy left to speak and fight back at this point in the draining process. His impressive power was truly that of the gods.

And that was exactly where Maduin claimed the power of Espers came from. Kefka knew the foolish beast meant that as a threat, but it only served to drive both him and the Emperor to seek out higher and higher levels of power. Even now, scholars across the continent were scouring the old records left behind after the War of the Magi to find any hint of what happened to these mighty gods and goddesses the Espers worshipped and feared. The "Warring Triad" the Espers called them.

_A fitting name for gods of destruction. Seek them out, and make their power our own!_

"What do you want, fiend?" The Esper's deep rumbling voice echoed oddly from inside the tank he was sealed inside. He was submerged in a magic-draining fluid that kept him sedate, mostly. Cid had chastised Kefka constantly about provoking the Espers, but when did Kefka ever listen to that man?

Besides, these Espers were just about used up, and Kefka felt he could take them on easily if they actually managed to escape. The last batch that escaped had been weak enough that they had barely managed to escape, and that was many years ago. The Emperor had been furious at the incident, and blamed Kefka at first for inciting the rebellion with his endless taunts. It was a simple enough matter to create a flaw in the holding systems and blame the outbreak on the soft-hearted Cid, though. Cid had never been allowed as much freedom with them since then. Such a good scapegoat!

"Oh, nothing my fanged friend," Kefka said conversationally. Most people were deathly afraid of the "godbeasts" that haunted the facility, but Kefka had no fear of them. They were just animals, freaks of nature, nothing more.

"Leave me, then. I grow tired," Maduin said with effort through his tank. The other Espers turned slowly to face the two, but said nothing. They were too weak to make more than the smallest of movements anymore.

"Don't worry, you'll get your wish soon enough. I leave for Tzen tomorrow, and it will just be you and Cid for quite a while, I think." Kefka savored his next bit of news for a moment before revealing it to the weary prisoner. "...Your daughter will be joining me."

The Esper slammed his body against the thick glass between him and Kefka. Several other Espers tried to calm him with words, but could not find their voices. Only a few strangled sounds of despair emerged from the surrounding tanks.

"You will pay for your crimes against this world, Kefka!" Maduin shouted with renewed vigor, his claws scraping against the glass. "There have been others before you who thought they could tame the power of the gods, and they have all turned to dust."

_Never! We will never be dust! I will survive forever!_

"I will never lose to a bunch of losers like you," Kefka shot back, a strangely familiar anger filling him. This Esper had a way about him, something that always made Kefka even madder than he would expect from their encounters. It infuriated him, yet the strange emotion kept him coming back for more "talks" with the creature. There seemed to be some connection between them. Perhaps a part of this Esper dwelt inside him. Only Cid knew which Espers were used for each individual infusion, though.

"Lose to us? No...," the Esper chuckled in spite of his condition. "We lost our battle a long time ago. We had forgotten how power hungry humans could be, and we paid for it. But one thing we've learned is that there is always hope for those who seek it. You will lose."

_No! There is no hope for you! I will destroy it! Kill it! Annihilate it! This world will be bereft of all but fear. Of me!_

"No! I will seek it out myself, and eradicate every last trace of it. My rule will be the only salvation for this world. People will worship ME, fear ME, or die by ME! The gods themselves will tremble before me! I will never forget what they did!"

Kefka burst out with this tirade without even realizing what he was saying. But Maduin's quiet gaze said that he had heard such megalomaniacal speeches many times in his long, long life. Was the War of the Magi really so far away now? To look into this man's eyes, it felt like that tragic war was only yesterday. Or perhaps it was the future he was feeling in his bones now. Was another great war coming?

"You sound much like a man I once knew, ages ago," the ancient Esper sighed. "He felt abandoned by humanity, by the world, by the gods themselves, and sought answers to questions he couldn't even begin to ask. In the end he got what he was looking for. I suspect you will, too."

_And what is that, beast?_

"And what is that, beast?" Kefka's rage was peaking now, and he couldn't tell where his own anger ended and that unknown anger began. It was all the same, anyways. Death, life, destruction, creation, hate, love...he would see an end to it all, and then would fashion his own world, by his own rules from the meaningless ashes. It would be a monument to non-existence.

"It would be pointless to tell you," Maduin said weakly, sinking back into the haze of his tank. "You'll find out the answer the same way he did. I only pray that the world doesn't pay as heavy a price this time as it did before. One cataclysm is all I think this tired planet can take."

_There are no answers, only despair, only fear!_

"There is only despair, only fear," Kefka intoned, as if he were repeating lines from a poem. "You'll be dead soon, anyways. Just know that I will take good care of your little Terra. We will build a wonderful new world together. You should be proud, heeheehee!"

Kefka's laugh was the saddest thing Maduin ever head. With a look of longing he glanced at the remaining Espers still struggling to survive. He was exhausted now, too exhausted to show the seething hatred for this man that had abused his daughter for so long. It would all be over soon, for all of them. And then the true nightmare would begin.

So far they had managed to keep the secret of their true power hidden from these ignorant humans. But they had been lucky so far. As soon as the first magicite remain was discovered, everything would change, and the rest of them would be slaughtered without question. Who would be the first to betray their secret by dying before they were discarded, forgotten but still clinging to life, into the bowels of the factory below? It would not be him. He must keep their secret for as long as his body could hold out.

His thoughts wandered as his consciousness failed him...

_Elia, Altimus, Gaeus, Uranos, Janus...all the gods I know, if you still care about this world, give me strength. All the gods with no name, give me strength as well. We must not let the War of the Magi be repeated. Too much was lost last time. Another war would push this world past its limits._

_Is this all still part of your plans, Altimus? Must the world be destroyed for the Balance to truly be restored? Was that your real plan all these millennia? Why hasn't Eden returned? Where is the new garden of hope we were promised? Were we all deceived by your words?_

"Have you ever looked at the sky, Kefka?" Maduin whispered from the back of his tank, an odd look of defeat on his emaciated face.

Kefka stopped laughing for a moment. "What are you talking about?"

"The sky," Maduin repeated, fading fast. "Doesn't it look like something is missing? Like there is a hole in the sky? Surely you feel it in your soul."

"I feel nothing in my soul. The sky is the same as it has always been. Don't play mind games with me, Esper." Kefka had no idea what the Esper was babbling about. Or did he?

_Ignore him. We are done here._

"Remember the sky, Kefka. That hole in the sky that you don't see is the hole in your soul, the hole in all our souls since the War of the Magi ended and magic was ripped from this world. We all paid a price for the dark dreams of people like you and the Emperor. We can't afford to pay it again. It was far too steep."

"You're mad," Kefka said, unsettled despite himself. He turned to leave, eager to get this day over with.

"When you're sitting alone on your throne of destruction, remember the sky, Kefka. That hole will always be above you, beyond you. Untouchable, unknowable. You are not a god."

_Destroy! Destroy, destroy, destroy! I'll destroy it all!_

"Then I will destroy the sky! I will destroy, destroy, destroy, until there is nothing above me. There is nothing I cannot reach, nothing I cannot destroy!" Kefka howled at the dying Esper, banging his fists on the glass impotently like a child. Spittle flew from his bared teeth as he attacked the tank like a wild animal.

_Destroy, destroy, destroy!_

"Stop that!" A voice echoed from the elevator shaft behind the tanks. It was Cid, the head researcher, and he was not pleased to see Kefka up to his old antics again. "How many times do I have to tell you to quit bothering these poor creatures!"

"Leave me alone," Kefka growled wearily. Cid's voice had snapped him back to semi-sanity, and he was worn out from his meeting with the damnable Esper.

Cid rushed towards the tank to inspect it for damage, and Kefka stepped back, not wanting to look at its contents anymore.

"Leave me alone," Kefka repeated, stumbling out of the storage area. "Leave me alone!"

_I am always by your side. We are one. I am you and you are me. You cannot deny the hole in your heart. Fill it! Fill it with despair, death, destruction! We hunger for it all, and our hunger can never be sated! Our hatred can never be quenched!_

"I hate you! Hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate you!"

_Yes, hate us! Hate me! Hate yourself, and the world that created you! Hate the gods that abandoned us! Hate, hate, hate!_

"Aagh!" Kefka gasped, bursting with an intense aura of pain, despair, loneliness, and unstoppable hate. Giant chunks of ice rained down around him, smashing into the walls. Great arcs of lightning streaked over him, tearing holes in the hanging machinery. Towering flames gushed from beneath him, scorching several unfortunate soldiers.

Kefka lay in a dead heap for several minutes, recovering himself. No one paid any attention to him. He was alone, utterly alone, and no one cared in the slightest. Who would want to help this man who had hurt so many? When he was quiet and still like this, it was the only time anyone felt safe around him.

Slowly, a small gurgling sound rose up from the heap of discordant robes. The pile shivered, and hiccupped. A tiny note of laughter burbled up from the mess, then turned into a hacking laugh. The pile picked itself up, the laughter rising higher and higher in pitch and volume. The laughter stopped for a brief moment, then a diabolical howl of glee exploded from the man-shaped pile of robes.

"AHAHAHAHAH! UWAHAHAHA! UWEEHEEHEE!" The crazed sound carried on and on as the heap carried itself to the upper balcony of the factory, shaking with violent spasms all the way. It watched with a grin to split hell itself as its greatest plan for the war unfolded on the staging area below.

Three massive mechanical machines unhooked themselves from the refueling lines and roared a deep grinding sound, completely inhuman. At the front of the pack was a green-haired girl, guiding her uniquely outfitted suit into the light of the open tract of land outside the factory. The endless laughter from above reached the ears of the silent girl, and she winced in intense pain, not knowing why.

The heap gripped the banister tightly as it watched the three vanish into the fading light of sunset, still shaking with the frenzy of the moment. Letting go one finger at a time, it danced back into the shadows, laughing madly all the way into the darkness.

By dawn tomorrow, the three would be well on their way to the frozen wastes of Narshe. When they reached the defenseless town, it would be a rude awakening for the sleepy inhabitants. It would be a rude awakening for the entire world. The time had come for the world to know the power of Espers, of Magic, and of Magitek, and to know the bottomless hate of Kefka Palazzo.


End file.
